


the greatest change

by tempestaurora



Series: destiny is a funny thing [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: (Because The Fire Nation Has Already Captured It), Avatar Cycle, Bloodbending (Avatar), Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence: Crossroads of Destiny, F/M, Fire Lord Ozai's A+ Parenting, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Multiple Pov, The Author Also Wrote 40k In Four Days And Is Now Very Tired, The Author Regrets Nothing, There Is No War In Ba Sing Se, its gonna be dramatic but it's also gonna be fun ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:08:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 57,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25166722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempestaurora/pseuds/tempestaurora
Summary: It was not just one death, but a hundred deaths, a thousand. The deaths of all those that came before him, wiped out in and instant; the deaths of all those that would come after, their distant, glowing breaths wiped from existence in a snap.The light shuddered. The Avatar State split.Aang’s body crumpled against the stone.When he woke up, he was no longer the Avatar.OR: With her brother returning to the Fire Nation, Azula has to fight to be the heir; but it's not long before Zuko has a change of heart and believes his destiny lies with the Avatar - he needs to teach Aang firebending and defeat his father. But when he finally meets Aang, he discovers that the Avatar Spirit had left him in the Catacombs. Aang's identity is only that of the last airbender - with a new Avatar possibly out there, unbeknownst to the world.
Relationships: Aang & The Gaang (Avatar), Azula & Mai & Ty Lee & Yue & Zuko (Avatar), Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Sokka & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Suki (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar), Toph Beifong & Zuko, eventual: - Relationship
Series: destiny is a funny thing [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1831774
Comments: 181
Kudos: 245





	1. awakening

**Author's Note:**

> this fic came about after i read like 300k words of fan fiction in the span of four days and i realised there was just one thing i really wanted to read and couldn't find: aang dying in ba sing se and waking up no longer the avatar. that's what this fic is, with added bonus of 75% of season 3 being thrown out the window for a journey from the perspectives of aang, zuko, azula, toph, sokka, katara and ty lee (with a few bonus one-offs of other characters in there too)
> 
> i had fun with formatting and got a lot of inspiration from the series 'the sparrowkeet' by audreyii_fic.
> 
> also the first chapter is 6k but the rest are 12k+.
> 
> NOW on the zutara front: this was supposed to be a slow burn to reach zutara, and it's more like a zutara-if-you-squint kind of ending as it stands right now (which is me not actually having written the ending yet lmao). but as i'm hoping to turn this into a series, zuko and katara's relationship once they're past the comet will be explored properly then, just like suki and sokka etc. i hope that doesn't put you off but lmao i don't want to hype up a pairing that this fic won't have a whole lot of.
> 
> otherwise, this was a labour of love that i wrote in under a week and i'm just hoping it's good and coherent. enjoy!

> **Avatar Roku said:**
> 
> If you are killed in the Avatar State, the reincarnation cycle will be broken and the Avatar will cease to exist.

i

Dying felt a lot like falling.

Like plummeting to the earth, a sever in his body, splitting into pieces like glass; shattering, cracking, a slicing sensation from the very core of his chest, spreading across his limbs like the arrows the monks had painstakingly tattooed across his skin.

_This is dying,_ he knew. _This is death._

Not just one death, but a hundred deaths, a thousand. The deaths of all those that came before him, wiped out in and instant; the deaths of all those that would come after, their distant, glowing breaths wiped from existence in a snap.

The light shuddered. The Avatar State split.

Aang’s body crumpled against the stone.

ii

Zuko was questioning his decisions, even after the Water Tribe girl – _Katara, her name is Katara, and her mother is dead, and she would’ve healed your scar –_ vanished up the waterfall with the corpse of the Avatar. He was questioning his decisions as his uncle was thrown down in front of him, arms clasped in rock cuffs, feet bound, refusing to even look at him. He was questioning his decisions as Azula blew the smoke from her fingertips, like murder was nothing, assassination was nothing, like this was what was always meant to be.

After the Catacombs, he paced his room in the Earth Kingdom palace. The Dai Li, Azula’s personal private bodyguards, had found him a room and whisked Uncle away, into the depths of the dungeons.

He’d seen the Fire Nation banners unfurl, covering the Earth Kingdom insignia. He’d seen the servants bow, quivering and afraid, before the Fire Nation Prince and Princess. He’d seen Long Feng’s head roll, detached from his body, across the throne room tiles, as Azula watched on, her expression indifferent, but her eyes alight with power.

Zuko had always wondered why he was the first born when it was always clear that Azula intended to rule.

iii

Night descended on Ba Sing Se, and Ty Lee peered out the palace windows at the glowing yellow lights of the city. She may have come from nobility, but she had never felt comfortable in the palaces; she was meant for life, for _people_ , for both the stage and the audience that watched, enraptured.

She kept her eyes pointed towards those lights and ignored the body of Long Feng being carried away from the palace. His corpse would be used to scare straight a few deviants, as Azula had put it; his death would keep their hold on this city.

It was very impressive of Azula, Ty Lee thought, that General Iroh had spent six hundred days trying to break this city, but it had only taken her a month.

_A difference in technique,_ she thought as she rose to her feet, ready to sleep the night away and awaken in the morning to start the long trip home. _Iroh tried to invade from the outside in, while Azula just slipped amongst the ranks and stole from the inside out._

She really was very impressive.

vi

Katara had seen death play out before.

She’d seen the before and after; her mother saying _Go find your father,_ and the cold corpse she returned to. She’d seen it happen, seen Fire Nation soldiers crumple, seen them bleed and choke and drown. She’d drowned many of them herself, in fact. Katara was a natural waterbender, and though it was said that fire was the element of destruction, she could think of no more painful way to die than with water in your lungs or ice cracking your skin.

Though perhaps, she allowed, lightning could come close.

She’d seen the way it had torn through Aang’s body; the way he’d convulsed in the air, shocked and rigid and tense. The lightning had sparked white around his body, had burned straight through his back, and left him broken, left him… dead.

What a violent end lightning could bring. What an overwhelming pain, a tsunami of intensity, to force you from one world to the next.

As they rode away on Appa from Ba Sing Se, from the defeat and the betrayal, Katara cried, Aang tight in her arms. Sokka had tried to take him from her, but she refused to let go. She could still feel the warmth of him; he was gone but not all the way – not like her mother’s body, which had grown cold so quickly after the firebender had cut her down.

Katara only pulled away from Aang so she could lift the vial of spirit water from the cord that kept it around her neck. It was a good thing, she thought, that she hadn’t healed Zuko’s scar after all. Not least of all because he’d turned his back on them not ten minutes after she’d offered.

She used her teeth to pull out the stopper, and carefully bent the water to the scar on Aang’s back, angry and red and blistering. The lightning had entered at his foot, she’d find out not long later; it had coursed all the way up his left leg and exited out of the centre of his back, stretching and reaching for everything it didn’t immediately touch.

The water glowed a light, powerful blue as it gloved her hand, soothing the burn and seeping inside, finding the heart, the lungs, the blood. She focused hard on the water, on Aang, on the energy of the universe, push and pull, Tui and La.

The Avatar would live, she decided. He had to.

v

Aang gasped sharply, his eyes flying open.

He felt numb, felt hollow. He saw Katara, crying, holding him. He saw the night sky, the moon, the stars that watched from on high.

He said, “Don’t go,” like a prayer, like asking for mercy when he knew there would be none.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Katara replied, but she was not who he was speaking to.

He closed his eyes again and slept.

**A PROCLAMATION FROM THE PALACE OF THE FIRE LORD**

_Long may he reign._

On the day of the sixth year, the fourth month and the eleventh day of our Lord, Ozai, the Avatar was heroically struck down and killed by our once-banished Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation.

It is today, six years, four months and thirteen days after the ascension of our protector and ruler, His Majesty, Fire Lord Ozai, the Fire Lord’s first-born son, Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, has been permitted his return to the home country, and will return to his duties as Prince.

His return is of great joy to the Fire Lord. His highness Prince Zuko’s banishment lasted three years, two months, and nineteen days, and has been overturned after his successful assassination of the Avatar, and his efforts involved in conquering Ba Sing Se at the right hand of Her Highness Princess Azula of the Fire Nation.

Prince Zuko and Princess Azula deposed the king of the Earth Kingdom, and have turned over rule of Ba Sing Se to the Fire Nation. Their war-changing victory shall be celebrated for a week upon their return, on the fourteenth of this month, in the sixth year of our Lord, Ozai, culminating in a Caldera-wide celebration on the twenty-first in their honour.

_May the Fire Lord’s reign burn bright and lasting._

> **Lo and Li said:**
> 
> Your Princess Azula, clever and beautiful, disguised herself as the enemy and entered the Earth Kingdom’s Capital. In Ba Sing Se, she found her brother Zuko, and together they faced the Avatar… And the Avatar fell! And the Earth Kingdom fell! Azula’s agents quickly overtook the entire city. They went to Ba Sing Se’s great walls, and brought them down! The armies of the Fire Nation surged through the walls and swarmed over Ba Sing Se, securing our victory. Now the heroes have returned home! Your princess, Azula… and after three long years, your price has returned… Zuko!

vi

Zuko had seen a party in Ba Sing Se. He’d watched it from the shabby apartment he and Uncle had rented as refugees in the lower ring. There had been music and dancing; people laughing and swinging each other around by the elbows. He’d watched from his bedroom window, perched with his cheeks resting in his fists as the yellow light blazed through the night from the strangers’ windows.

It seemed they were celebrating a birthday.

Zuko had not celebrated any of his birthdays since his banishment. The first one had come along some eight or nine months after the bandages were removed from his face, and Uncle had requested a good meal from the kitchen crew on board the ship, with some of his favourite foods. There hadn’t been much else, just a warm wish from his uncle, and a warning that fourteen was not much older than thirteen, though sometimes the difference felt like decades.

On his fifteenth birthday, Uncle had gifted him the dao blades. The set was certainly cheaper than the expensive swords he’d trained through his childhood with under Master Piandao, but they were good, and they were balanced, and they were his.

Very few things had been his by that point.

On his sixteenth birthday, they’d docked in the port of a Fire Nation colony on the western border of the Earth Kingdom. He’d seen dancing that night, too, and though Uncle had attempted to encourage him to join in, Zuko had refused.

He hadn’t danced since he was thirteen. Dancing was not generally an activity the Fire Nation regarded particularly highly; it was reserved for nobles at parties just like the one they were throwing in his honour tonight. Those dances were about form and dignity – they were nothing like the ones he’d seen in Ba Sing Se, out his bedroom window. _Those_ dances were about _fun._

Zuko made his way into the ballroom, where the ball was to be held. Parties would play on throughout the entirety of the Caldera tonight – Zuko wondered about them, about what they might be like. The one in the palace was filled to the brim with the nobles he’d done his best to avoid all week; the ones who’d grinned maniacally at his Agni Kai, or whispered about him in the halls when they thought he couldn’t hear.

No, he had perfectly good hearing in his right ear, even if the left’s was muffled on a good day. The fire had taken most of his sight in his left eye, but it was the infection afterwards that had stolen his hearing.

A band played on one side of the room, and Zuko took his place beside Azula, on the thrones that towered over the nobles. The set up was much like the one in the throne room; luxurious cushions settled in three spaces; one for Zuko, another for Azula, and the third for their father. Ozai, however, was absent, but Zuko didn’t feel particularly surprised.

The only time he’d seen his father since his return was on the day of, when he’d bowed to the Fire Lord and had been officially granted stay in his home, and at a war meeting, three days later, when they had waited for his arrival.

For a while, Zuko watched the nobles talk and chatter. He was aware that there was a lot of ceremony about these things, about how long he had to watch from his seat for, about if and when he was allowed to dance, or eat, or speak. He let his mind float as he did so, thinking of Uncle, in his prison cell, of Azula, claiming the kill was his, of the Avatar’s dead body in the Water Tr— _Katara’s_ arms.

He wondered, silently, if he would’ve made the same decision to side with Azula had he been given only a few more minutes with Katara. They’d only shared a few sentences and he had let her touch the rough skin of his scar as she had offered to heal it. But then Zuko looked across to Azula, who was already watching him with a steely gaze and he thought, _No. I made the right decision, and I would’ve made the same one even if that Water Tribe peasant had begged._

“We should dance,” Azula said, suddenly, like the idea had just occurred to her. Zuko thought she’d probably decided they would dance at least three days in advance; she probably knew every decision every guest would make tonight.

“I don’t dance,” Zuko lied. They’d taken all the same classes together.

“Oh, get over yourself,” she replied, rising gracefully from her seat. Azula’s ceremonial dress matched the robes his tailor had sewn for Zuko; from the way the silk hung to the pattern of the beading, they were a matching unit. The siblings who brought down an empire, supposedly. “If you don’t dance with me, I’ll have to dance with some noble upstart, and I don’t particularly feel like doing that.”

Azula descended the steps to the level of the ballroom, and raised a single eyebrow. _“Well?”_

Zuko took a single controlled breath in, and then exhaled it out.

“Fine.”

“There’s my big brother.” Her smile was the devious kind, but he knew everyone else would find it sweet.

Zuko rose and stepped down to her level, taking her outstretched hand and leading her towards the centre of the ballroom, where other nobles danced to the band. They turned to face each other, and Zuko glanced beyond her shoulder, to the audience they’d amassed simply by getting up.

“Don’t worry about them,” Azula whispered. “You’re a perfectly fine dancer. Of course, I’m better, but I’m sure all your time travelling the world hasn’t dulled your abilities.”

Zuko pressed his lips in a thin line, refusing to rise to the bait. Rather, he raised his hand, and Azula smirked, matching it with her own. The band, eyes on their royalty like everyone else, caught on immediately, the music changing from the slow traditional waltz type, to something a little faster.

For the first half of the song, Zuko and Azula were the only ones on the floor; matching each other’s every move, stepping around their circle in unison, their arms raising and falling in time. He caught her hand and she side stepped, they twisted and turned, their steps in perfect time. Soon enough, other nobles were permitted to join the dance, matching their movements and rhythm.

“I see you haven’t forgotten the steps at all,” Azula commented, twisting to raise her other hand as he did the same. “Did they do these sorts of dances in Ba Sing Se?”

He thought briefly of the jaunty, bright dance of the birthday part in the lower ring.

“No,” Zuko said evenly. “They didn’t.”

Azula’s eyes flitted away from his face to a spot behind his shoulder. “You know, perhaps you should invite Mai to dance.”

Zuko narrowed his eyes an inch. “Why would I do that?”

Azula sighed, rolling her eyes. They both turned, backs to each other, and she continued, “Because she’s had the largest, most _annoying_ crush on you since we were children, Zuzu.”

Zuko used everything he had to keep his eyes from bugging out while everyone watched him. He stopped himself from spluttering, and instead asked, “Is that so?”

“ _Yes,_ that’s so.” He and Azula stepped back, so they were side by side, and continued on. “And I know you did, too.”

“I was a child.”

“And now you’re the returned war hero Prince,” she replied. “I do imagine that with some good behaviour, your _Crowned_ title will be returned, and then you’ll need a wife to continue the lineage.”

He shot her a sideways gaze. “You wouldn’t let that happen.”

“What, your marriage?”

“Losing your title.”

Azula looked considering for a moment. Zuko, as the heir to the throne, was given the title Crowned Prince when he turned twelve, approximately a year and a half before his banishment. After that, the title was passed onto Azula, though Zuko _had_ secretly wondered if it would be returned upon his reinstatement in the palace.

“I suppose the killer of the Avatar deserves such a title,” she said, her words a double-bladed knife. The killer of the Avatar was Zuko; the killer of the Avatar was Azula.

Zuko hummed, non-committal.

“I wouldn’t want to leave you to dance by yourself,” he said at last, returning to their previous conversation. “I’m sure Mai would understand that, too.”

“Oh, it’s no bother. I’ve been meaning to meet a few potential suitors for some time.”

“You don’t plan on marrying soon,” Zuko accused quietly.

“Of course not, brother, but perhaps someone will _catch my eye._ ”

They stopped in front of one another and bowed, the song coming to an end. The audience clapped politely as they took a step away from one another. The Prince and the Princess stared each other off, a silent competition, until Zuko nodded, and stepped turned towards one side of the room. The nobles that he drew close to immediately began muttering under their breaths, but he ignored them, standing before Mai.

He held out a hand.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked.

Mai took a sip of her drink. The nobles muttered louder.

“I don’t like dancing,” she replied.

“Neither do I,” he lied again.

Mai considered his hand. “I suppose one dance couldn’t hurt.” She took it, and Zuko’s stomach flipped.

vii

Katara raised her arms and the fog rose with her, rolling across the ocean surface and disguising the purple sail of the Water Tribe boat. She moved slowly, precisely, her arms drawing wide circles to keep the fog curling and growing as they approached the Fire Navy ship in the night.

The moon was high already, curved in a smooth crescent. Behind her, Water Tribe men prepared their weapons, crouched low on the deck in wait.

As they drew close to the Fire Navy ship, the men leapt across and into battle. Katara kept the fog high and dense, her skin dripping wet from its cover, and she listened to the distant fight occurring in the bowels of the ship. The moon vanished behind the mist, the stars melted in the black of night.

It had been a little over a week since the Catacombs, and still she saw lightning streaked across the back of her eyelids. Would the impression of Aang’s death ever leave her? She hoped so; she hoped it would melt away like thin ice in the summer sun, and be at most a puddle she occasionally stepped in. There was too much to do to be weighed down by that singular moment, but she guessed it wouldn’t let go until Aang finally woke up.

He was still asleep, back on shore at Chameleon Bay as he had been since she brought him back to life on Appa. He had _died_ , she had been sure of that. She had _felt_ that. Felt the way his heart had stopped beating, his lungs no longer expanding. Aang had looked… hollow. Empty. And now it was just a waiting game for his body to heal and allow him to return – though, Sokka seemed pretty excited over the already wide-spread news of his death.

The Avatar had never been a secret weapon before; his entire purpose was to be the harbinger of change and balance. Not to hide in the bowels of a stolen Fire Navy ship and sail around the world, undetected.

But soon enough, the Water Tribe warriors were shining lanterns, to let those remaining on the boat know that they had taken the ship, and Katara slowly rolled back the fog as the boats turned and sailed for land.

She watched her father’s silhouette on the deck as they went. She watched as he and Bato threw the bodies of the Fire Nation soldiers overboard.

viii

Toph listened to Aang’s heartbeat through the ground. She felt for the footsteps of the remaining Water Tribe men, of Sokka, who had been pacing around camp all evening. Apparently, a large amount of Fire Navy ships had been in the area recently, and rather than pulling the Water Tribe boats ashore and Toph covering them with what hopefully looked like more mountainside, the others had decided it would be just better to steal a ship and make a break for it on that.

They’d left well over an hour ago.

Toph should probably be sleeping.

Aang’s heartbeat was steady but slow. It had been that way since he was first settled on the thin mat in the tent a week before. She hadn’t touched him since. In fact, the last time she’d seen him, they had been splitting up. Aang was going to get Katara back while she and Sokka warned the Earth King of the coup.

They had returned to find Katara holding a corpse.

Toph knew it was a corpse. There hadn’t been a heartbeat. It had taken her a minute to recognise it as Aang, and that was only because she couldn’t feel him anywhere else, and Katara wouldn’t drop the dead body.

She felt Sokka’s footsteps approach the tent.

“We just spotted them off the bay,” he said. “Get your things.”

Toph hesitated and she felt that hesitation echoed right back at her. Seeing with her feet was her way of life; she recognised the subtlest of movements, the way Sokka clearly moved his weight to his back foot to leave, and then returned it to the front one, to stay.

“How’s he doing?” he asked softly.

“There’s no change,” Toph replied. She paused and Sokka waited. “Do you think he’ll wake up?”

Sokka stepped further into the tent and then crouched by Toph’s side. He landed a heavy hand on her shoulder.

“I think he’s the Avatar. He has to.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“Then we’ll figure out another way to defeat the Fire Lord.”

“No—” Toph cut herself off, shaking her head. That wasn’t what she _meant._ “For—for us. For you. For me. And Katara. What do we do if he doesn’t wake up?”

Sokka’s hand tightened, his thumb pressed against her collar bone. No one had ever described what he looked like (except Sokka, with the words “devastatingly handsome”) – but she imagined kind eyes. That was it, really, though she had no reference point to what those things _were._ Kind eyes and big hands and maybe a nice smile. Definitely a nice smile.

“He’ll wake up.”

“Sokka.”

He sighed. “We’d mourn him,” he said. “We’d bury him, too. I’m not sure how the Air Nomads buried their dead, but in the Water Tribe, there’s not much ground to dig up, so maybe we’d give him a sea burial, like my Mom. Push him out on a raft into the ocean. Katara couldn’t waterbend when our Mom died, so we couldn’t do the part of the ceremony where waterbenders flood the raft and sink it to the bottom of the ocean. And, considering how she died, it didn’t feel right to shoot a burning arrow at the raft.”

“What did you do?”

“We tied weights to the bottom of the boat and sunk it,” Sokka replied. “We knew La would look after her in the next life.” He shook his head. “After that, we’d move on, Toph. We’d have to. There’s no use being stuck in the past.”

Toph felt Aang’s heartbeat, slow and soft.

“He’s not the past yet.”

“He’s not. He’s still here, and I’ll bet that he’ll be up on his feet any day now.” She could hear Sokka trying to sound chipper, but she couldn’t feel the honesty he usually spoke with. “Everything will be okay.”

His hand vanished from her shoulder as he stood. “We’ll need to you cover up the boats again,” he said. “We’ll leave them intact in case we need them again, but they’ll need to be hidden.”

“You got it,” Toph said, and Sokka left the tent. She felt his hesitation by the door; the brief pause before moving his weight forward, but this time he didn’t stay. Toph counted Aang’s heartbeats, before rising and following Sokka out.

ix

“Oh, this is so much fun!”

Ty Lee skipped down the hall, flinging herself forward into a handspring before continuing on. She spiralled at the end, to see Mai, Zuko and Azula slinking after her, like dejected goth royalty. Their auras were terribly dreary colours, even _after_ a party.

“Keep it down,” Azula said. “Do you want the whole palace to know what we’re up to?”

“You make it sound like we’re doing something bad,” Ty Lee replied, peering around the next corner and starting off down the steps.

“Father will blow a gasket if he knows what we’re doing,” Azula informed her as they all followed along, dressed in their ceremonial robes but with the new, stylish addition of deep red cloaks to obscure their faces. “Either that or he’ll give me a deformity to match Zuko’s.” She _humphed._ “Even _I_ couldn’t pull that look off.”

Ty Lee pointedly did not look behind her. She didn’t want to see the glower on Zuko’s face.

Frankly, she thought that Prince Zuko had grown up rather attractive despite the _deformity_ the Fire Lord had given him. He wasn’t her type – in fact, her type was a little less broad and sulky – but she could appreciate him anyway. Ty Lee knew she couldn’t say as much out loud, or Mai would probably sulk for a year. She knew that in a different way to how she knew she couldn’t express her dislike for how Zuko _received_ that scar.

She couldn’t imagine her own father, a non-bender as he was, ever doing something like that to her or her siblings.

The Fire Lord raised two very talented children, but she wasn’t sure if that made him a good father.

She skipped around the next corner to forget about such treasonous thoughts.

At the door, she unbolted it carefully, and peeked around the outside, before glancing back to her friends.

“The coast is clear,” she whispered.

The palace was not an easy place to access, but there were a few quiet entrances, largely for servants. However, even on a night like tonight, they knew those entrances would be manned. Instead, they sneaked their way into the bunker that ran under the length of the Caldera, and out into one of the side exits, near the centre of the city. On the outside, it looked like a regular door into a regular house. On the inside, there was a long, twisting hallway that ran into a maze beneath the palace.

Once her friends had caught up, she too raised the hood of her cloak, though Ty Lee doubted she was recognisable enough to be a problem, and slipped out into the darkness of the alley. The sudden rush of music and scent of spicy festival foods was _glorious._

It was a whole new world out here; a world she belonged in.

Zuko was last out of the bunker, locking the door behind them, and then Ty Lee grinned, snatching up Azula’s wrist and running towards the street.

“Ty Lee!” Azula protested, but once they were out in the orange glow of the street, the complaint died in her mouth.

It was _marvellous._

Glowing lights were strung up the length of the street in paper lanterns of all colours, and vendors sold food on sticks and in paper cones to the crowds of partygoers. There was music clashing with each other from all angles – that tea shop with a lute, this restaurant with a tsungi horn. Ty Lee slipped her hand down to Azula’s, grinning.

“Don’t you just _love_ it?” she gushed. “Oh, I’m so glad I could persuade you all to see this.”

Azula’s eyes reflected the lantern lights as she stared. “I didn’t realise the celebrations would look this way,” she said carefully, her voice quiet.

Ty Lee matched her volume, drawing close. “Fire Nation parties are rarely like the ones in the palace.” Azula didn’t meet her gaze, instead clocking everything in the vicinity. Ty Lee eventually glanced over her shoulder, to Zuko and Mai, also staring out at the celebrations.

“Follow me,” she said, loud enough for them both to look over. “There’ll be performers down in the town square!”

Ty Lee tugged on Azula’s hand once more, and the group followed her down the street, weaselling between strangers and citizens. She felt Azula’s skin grow particularly warm when she was bumped, but Ty Lee threw a reassuring smile over her shoulder, which Azula matched with a glower.

Ever since they were children, there had always been a glaring difference between herself and the princess, though that was to be expected. Azula had always found joy in firebending, in fighting, and she’d _rarely_ gotten along with the girls of lesser stature in school. Ty Lee had only gained her favour when she and a number of others had tripped at once, but she’d flipped herself out of the fall. Azula had liked her because she hadn’t been humiliated like all the rest.

They raced through the crowds and parties until they reached the town square, where a large audience had gathered. Ty Lee climbed up onto a lantern post to see over the audience, and then grinned down at her friends.

“You’ve _got_ to see this!” she said.

Zuko glanced behind him and climbed up onto an empty chair at an outdoor restaurant, helping Mai climb up beside him. Azula gestured for Ty Lee to move, so she swung herself up higher, and Azula took her place.

Then they could all see the acrobats and firebenders. It wasn’t dancing, as dancing was largely prohibited among the common people, it was something different, something _better._ This was a series of identically-dressed girls flipping in unison over bursts of fire; long coils of flame soaring overhead like twirling dragons, young children with ribbon batons leaping impossible leaps.

At the end, the crowd cheered and Ty Lee grinned down at her friends.

“I imagine you could do that,” Azula said, gesturing to the show.

“I used to perform like that all the time!” Ty Lee replied, before swinging herself down from the post, landing lightly on the cobblestone.

“Is this what happens at regular parties?” Azula asked. “There’s acrobats and performers? That feels a lot like the balls at… home.”

Azula jumped down to the ground.

“At regular parties, everyone eats and drinks and talks,” Ty Lee said. “This is a street party!”

“So there’s no drinking?” Mai asked, stepping down from the chair. Zuko followed after her.

Ty Lee hummed. “I’d say there’s _more_ drinking,” she replied.

Zuko waved a hand. “What are you waiting for, then? Lead the way.”

Ty Lee laughed. Her hood had come down when she jumped down from the post, but it didn’t matter. She wasn’t royalty, or famous. She was no war hero. She was an acrobat, once part of a matched set, like the girls flipping during that performance.

She had never been _noble_ , even if that was what she had been born into.

She was one of the people; faceless, but daring; unknown, but the star of her own show.

This time, when she reached forward, she grabbed Zuko’s hand. She caught the way Azula’s head tilted to the side just an inch, the way Mai’s eyes narrowed just a slither. Ty Lee thought they both needed to lighten up.

Zuko’s hand was rough from years of sailing and what had apparently been poverty in Ba Sing Se, but he followed along with no complaints as she darted back into the fray of the streets. They picked up the pace, racing and dashing through the crowds. Eventually, her laughter was joined by Zuko’s hesitant one, though Mai and Azula, following behind, didn’t join in.

It wasn’t hard to find a house party, nor was it hard to find alcohol being sold on the streets.

Ty Lee’s coin purse jingled happily and she paid whatever necessary, handing out the cups to her friends. Azula pulled a face at the taste and Mai grimaced. Ty Lee practically retched at the first one, unfamiliar with it, but Zuko simply downed it and asked for another.

“Brother,” Azula drawled, “I didn’t think your tastes would be so…” she pulled another face, like tasting it again, “unrefined.”

“I spent three years with sailors,” Zuko said, taking the next cup, “what do you think I learnt during that time?”

“What it means to be a disappointment?” Azula asked.

“Sea shanties?” Ty Lee suggested.

“Fishing?” Mai answered.

Zuko rolled his eyes and swallowed the contents of the cup in one. He didn’t even wince as it went down. “How to handle my liquor,” he replied. When he ordered again, he ordered a different drink, one Ty Lee had never heard of but was a pretty shade of maroon in colour. This one wasn’t so sharp and harsh, and was even a little sweet.

“ _This_ is what you spent your banishment doing?” Azula asked, hissing the word _banishment,_ as they walked away from the vendor and towards the house party Ty Lee had pointed out. “Drinking rum with sailors?”

“And learning how to swear,” Zuko replied.

“The Fire Nation Navy is a disgrace for teaching the prince such things,” Azula said, high and mighty, which Ty Lee found funny and giggled over.

Zuko frowned at her. “I wasn’t with the Fire Nation Navy.”

“Hm? Of course you were, I heard all about your ship.” Azula made a vague gesture with her hand. “It was puny and small.”

They were at the door of the house by this point, pushing their way inside. People milled about, music played from somewhere unknown, and it felt very different to the atmosphere out on the street. Still, no one danced, because it simply wasn’t done.

“ _Uncle_ bought that ship,” Zuko said, and Ty Lee’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “Father refused to spare a single man, even for a small crew, and didn’t give me a boat either.”

“Then who made up your crew?” Ty Lee asked.

Mai hummed. “Didn’t they wear Fire Nation uniforms?”

“They did,” Zuko replied, “but they were mercenaries for the most part. Defectors, if not.”

“Defectors?” Azula hissed. “You were travelling around with _treasonous scum?_ ”

Zuko levelled her with a cold gaze. “Wasn’t _I_ treasonous scum?”

Azula leaned back, considering. “You’re right,” she decided. “You belonged together. Ty Lee, let’s go find some more drinks. I can only take so much depressing backstory from my brother at once.”

This time, Ty Lee did glance over her shoulder at Zuko. He didn’t even seem to care about the way Mai had tucked her arm around his. He just stared after them, like something broken.

x

When Aang woke up, he did so with hair.

He was on a Fire Nation vessel, though soon discovered that the crew was anything but.

Katara held him tightly when he appeared above deck, followed by Sokka and Toph punching him in the arm.

_Two weeks,_ he was told. Two whole weeks since Ba Sing Se. He could barely remember it at all; just the lead up, tunnelling down into the dark with Iroh and finding Katara in the Catacombs, surrounded by crystals of blue and green. It was beautiful down there, like the bottom of the ocean frozen in shards.

There was nothing much after that, but he was told the whole horrible story.

He _died._

He _died_ and he _barely_ came back.

But the world didn’t know that. The world thought he was dead.

The Fire Nation had announced the news within days and the message had spread far and wide: THE AVATAR IS DEAD. THE AVATAR WAS KILLED. PRINCE ZUKO KILLED THE AVATAR.

“Did he really?” Aang asked, slapping his head into his hands. After months of chasing them around the world, Zuko finally got what he wanted.

“No,” Katara said. “He didn’t.”

Aang sighed, rolling his head back up to look at her. “I _get it._ I’m _still here,_ so he didn’t kill me—”

“No,” Katara corrected, pulling the dark cloak further around her shoulders. “Zuko didn’t kill you. Azula did.”

“Then why—”

“We don’t know. But Azula is _scary_ ; if she didn’t want the Fire Nation to believe Zuko killed you, then they wouldn’t. Whatever her motives are, she’s still dangerous.”

They told stories of the two week interlude while he was out, and Aang flattened his back against the deck, staring up at the cloudy sky above. It was growing foggy out on the sea, the mist rolling off the water in thick clouds. Katara said that happened sometimes near the Fire Nation – the heat of the active volcanoes constantly affected how the ocean breathed.

“Katara!” Bato called from across the deck. Aang remembered him from their time ice dodging. That felt like a lifetime ago. Perhaps it was. “It’s getting tough to see. Would you mind making a path? We want to make good time to the next drop off.”

“No problem,” Katara replied, rising from Aang’s side. She smiled sadly down at him; he’d started growing hair, there were bandages wrapped around his torso; he probably looked like a pathetic version of himself. “You wanna help?” she asked. “Bending fog isn’t particularly strenuous.”

Aang sighed. It might make him feel a little helpful, after he failed the world and let Ba Sing Se fall. Aang climbed slowly to his feet and followed Katara down to the bow of the boat, settling on the opposite side of the deck.

He breathed slowly out, feeling the twitch of pain in his back, the way it shuddered all down his left leg, into his bandaged foot, then he reached out, drawing the fog away.

Only—

He took another breath, stretching out his mind to the water in the air, just like Katara was doing. He bent it away from the front of the—

_Alright._

Waterbending was about fluid motions; calm, serene actions. He loosened his stance, made his limbs slacker, and swayed forward, pulling the—

“Are you alright Aang?”

“Hm? Yeah. Yeah. No—I—I can’t seem to get this.”

Katara’s face cut into a frown. Aang didn’t have the wherewithal to even think about how pretty she looked out at sea; her braid had loosened and flyaway hairs fluttered in the breeze. The fog dampened her skin, making it glisten, but—

“You’ve bent fog plenty of times before,” Katara said. “Just follow my motions.”

She led him through the actions, just as he had been doing; leaning forward and dragging the fog backwards, dissipating it into the air as they went. But it was only happening on Katara’s side of the boat, not on Aang’s.

“I don’t get it,” Aang huffed. He shook out his hands. “I could do this yesterday—two weeks ago. I could do this in my sleep.”

Katara’s concern was etched deep now. “Can you waterbend some of the ocean for me?”

“Hm?”

“I just want to see.”

“Alright.” Aang sighed and moved his hands out towards the side of the boat. Bending water was a lot about feeling the energy and pulling on it; sliding through the motions and picturing what he wanted before it happened. He imagined lifting a globule of water from the surface, but in practice—

“I don’t _get it_ ,” he said. “I know how to waterbend. I’m _good_ at it.”

“Maybe your injury isn’t as healed as we thought,” Katara said, slipping her hand on his bare shoulder. “Maybe after a bit more rest, you’ll be able to bend like always.”

Aang didn’t think so, though. That didn’t sit right within him; in the spaces where he felt hollow within his own chest. He swallowed, pressing a hand flat against his sternum. Something was missing, maybe. Gone.

Reality hit him like intrinsic knowledge; known, unavoidable, inevitable. He hadn’t noticed when he woke up, just the aching space where the truth sat, or where it used to.

He looked up at Katara, and just _knew._

“I don’t think I can waterbend anymore.”


	2. the beach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there are brief references to sexual assault and pedophilia in this chapter. they're referred to in the context of crime that goes on in the caldera that zuko tries to put a stop to.
> 
> also, azula gets to say the first 'fuck' in the story.

> **Yue said:**
> 
> The legends say the moon was the first waterbender. Our ancestors saw it how pushed and pulled the tides and learned how to do it themselves. Our strength comes from the spirit of the moon. Our life comes from the spirit of the ocean. They work together to keep the balance.

i

There was a treasonous part of Katara’s mind that said, _What good is an Avatar who is unbalanced?_

She tampered that down, crushing it under the weight of everything else. Aang’s bending vanishing was a problem, but it wasn’t the only one they were facing. There was still Zuko, back in the palace, with all the knowledge he’d gained about Aang from his hunt across the world. There was still the Fire Lord, the invasion plan, the imminent comet that would enable the Fire Nation to win the war once and for all.

Katara wrapped her arms tightly around her torso as Aang told the others that he couldn’t water bend. Sokka’s eyes bugged out of his face, and Katara caught Hakoda’s soft swear.

_What good is an Avatar that can’t bend all four elements?_

“It’ll come back,” she insisted. “He’s still injured – I’m sure if he gets more rest—”

“You can’t know that!” Aang retorted loudly, hurt crumpled across his face. “What if it’s gone for good!”

“ _You_ can’t know that!” Katara replied.

His breathing was erratic. “Roku said that if I was killed in the Avatar State, the Avatar Cycle would cease to exist. I _died,_ Katara.”

The silence hung heavy, until Toph kicked herself to standing. “Let’s not run away with ourselves,” she said. “I’ll go get some dirt, and we’ll see if Twinkletoes has lost earthbending, too.”

“Where are you gonna find dirt?” Sokka asked, incredulous, gesturing at the miles of water around them.

“I packed a bag of it in my things.”

“ _Why?_ ”

Toph shrugged, heading towards the stairs. “I like dirt, what can I say?”

She was back only a minute later, during which time Aang paced and Sokka watched worriedly and Hakoda shared the news quietly with Bato, who repeated the exact swear that Hakoda had said himself.

She emptied the contents of the bag into Aang’s cupped hands; dirt scattering across the metal of the deck, a crumble of rubble and pebbles from the cliffside at Chameleon Bay.

“There!” she said. “Bend that.”

Aang’s face tensed in concentration. Then he shifted his stance, widening the placement of his feet. He strained, he made a noise at the back of his throat, his eyebrows furrowed deeply.

Katara shared a glance with her brother.

“Don’t—don’t hurt yourself,” Sokka said, climbing to his feet. “Like Katara said, you’re injured. Maybe your Avatar connection bungled, and you just need to spend some time meditating.”

Aang’s features softened. He dropped the dirt.

“Maybe you’re right.”

“I’m always right,” Sokka said, flinging his arm around Aang’s shoulder. “So, let’s head down to your room – it’ll be quiet down there. Maybe something that Guru taught you will help out…” His voice trailed away as Sokka led him down to the lower levels, and Katara turned her gaze to Toph, who was scooping the dirt back into the bag.

“He’ll be okay,” Katara said, though the words didn’t feel true.

Toph’s face was tight as she nodded. “Only a few months ago, my primary concern was how I was gonna sneak out to go fight at the Earth Rumble tournament.” She exhaled a shallow sigh. “We’re just kids, Katara.”

“Toph—”

Toph shook her head and climbed to her feet. “I’m gonna go take a nap. Sailing makes me queasy.”

ii

Zuko brushed his fingers across the familiar ridges of the mask. He’d thrown his last one into the waters of Lake Lagoi, like a banishment of who he used to be. But not long later, he’d ended up right back in this palace, hadn’t he? Who he used to be was who he was _now_ , and he curled his fingers around the edges of The Blue Spirit’s mask, the one he’d stolen from the house Ty Lee had led them into on the final night of celebrations a few days before, wondering if who he might’ve been would’ve been happier.

Why wasn’t he happy yet? What was he doing wrong?

At the knock on the door to his chambers, Zuko hid the mask beneath his pillow, calling “Come in,” when it was out of sight.

His head attendant, Masado, poked his head around the door.

“It is growing late, Your Highness,” Masado said, his eyes directed firmly at the floor. “Is there anything I can do for you before I retire to bed?”

“No, thank you, Masado,” Zuko replied. Though he’d been home for less than two weeks, he’d successfully managed to persuade Masado to sleep through the night. Supposedly, Azula’s head attendant would be awake until the small hours, in case her princess needed anything. Zuko had felt bad, when he’d seen Masado on that first morning, bags under his eyes, and imposed an end to his workday an hour after sunset. He still couldn’t get Masado to look up at him, though. “Have a good night.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Masado said softly, bowing. “I will deliver your breakfast at—”

“No,” Zuko interrupted, an idea forming in his head. “No, I’d prefer to take my breakfast in the parlour tomorrow. Mid-morning.”

“As you wish, Your Highness. Sleep well.” Masado bowed once more before backing out of the room, and Zuko turned back to the pillow and the lump where the mask sat. He pulled it back out, and drew himself swiftly to the closet, finding the thin black clothes that were stored there.

The Blue Spirit had been the scourge of the Earth Kingdom and the Fire Nation colonies, though he had not once been seen in the motherland itself. Usually, when he went out, there was a mission, a plan; breaking out the Avatar, capturing his bison, stealing food or money from rich dignitaries so he could afford a good teapot for Uncle.

There was no plan, tonight. There was no one to steal from, no one to visit in the darkness. Uncle wouldn’t speak to him when he went to the prisons under the cover of night, and he was _home._ He was the prince, he had everything he’d ever wanted. What was there left to _do?_

Still, he swept on the clothes and escaped out the window, climbing down the trellis and dashing across the roof. There were secret passageways everywhere in the palace, leading down to the bunker, or up to the rooftop – here was one, a trapdoor sneaking down into a narrow hallway that led eventually to the servants’ quarters. In the dark, The Blue Spirit was a shadow, a spectre. If anyone saw him pass, they made no sound – what could he be here to do? Kill the Fire Lord? Steal the royal jewels? Assassinate the Crowned Princess?

The Blue Spirit flipped a pan from the small servants’ kitchenette onto the floor, darting into the shadows without a thought. The guard that stood outside the door stepped inside, sword at the ready – but there was no one, just a pan on the floor and a shadow that vanished out the door behind him.

Then The Blue Spirit was leaping the fence and running down the streets, a swift wind with swords on his back, a ghoulish mask on his face. He was nothing and nobody. He had no past, no agenda. He ran the streets of the Caldera as if he knew them by heart, though that couldn’t have been further from the case. The man behind the mask had rarely escaped the palace to learn the passageways of his home city.

The Blue Spirit was a blur in the periphery of the citizens walking home at night. He was in the streets, down the alleys, up on the rooftops, there and then gone. _Could it really be him?_ they must’ve been thinking, seeing the barest slither of blue and black, _Could The Blue Spirit really be here?_

He had no thoughts to follow, no aim in mind. Perhaps he would just run all night, or maybe he would sneak into a sleeping house of a general who had despised him and steal his medals. Maybe he would creep into the bedroom of a disgruntled noble, who’d laughed at his Agni Kai, and let them wake up to his swords at their throat, a threat, a warning. Maybe he would just run, though, just learn the city and its secrets, listen in at windows and alleyways, hover by doors and eavesdrop on the people who had celebrated his return home.

But then he heard a sharp cry and turned towards it before the thoughts could come in and disrupt him. The noise cut off quick, but he’d heard it, and The Blue Spirit was dashing down the rooftops, leaping between the buildings before he could stop himself. Then: there, a woman in the shadow between two darkened establishments, and a man who pressed her up against a wall, his hand against her mouth.

The Blue Spirit flipped down behind him, landing silently on the ground, drawing the swords from his back—the woman’s eyes widened at the sight of him, staring straight through the holes of the mask.

The man’s hand was rucking up the long skirt of her dress when the glint of blades flashed before him, crossing in front of his throat.

All three froze. Then the man’s hands rose carefully, away from the woman. The Blue Spirit stepped back, bringing the man with him if he didn’t want his throat slit. His hands held up in surrender, The Blue Spirit jerked his head to the side, and the woman took off running, tears trailing down her face still.

The Blue Spirit didn’t speak. He never did.

“Listen,” the man said, and turned suddenly, a burn of bright red flame following his fist. _Firebender._ The Blue Spirit ducked, kicked his foot into the knee of his attacker and then stepped back after hearing the snap. The man crumpled with a howl. The Blue Spirit twisted the blades together and set them back between his shoulder blades.

He did good, he thought, absently, as he crouched down and grabbed the flimsy flaming fist that the man sent his direction. He wrenched the wrist back until it cracked.

This was not an Agni Kai. The Blue Spirit was not bound by respect or honour. The man beneath the mask was bound only by a duty to his people; and this man was a danger to them all.

Would he have been like this if his scar had been healed by the Wa— _Katara?_ Would he have been like this if he had never been banished in the first place? Would he have been like this if Uncle had not fought against Azula, if he had returned as the mighty General the Fire Nation knew him to be?

The Blue Spirit was unsure, but that barely mattered.

Now, he grabbed the short blade that dangled from the man’s belt, considering it briefly in his hand. It was cheap, shoddy workmanship. The man was still sobbing. The Blue Spirit was surprised no one came searching for the sounds, but then again, a country built on apathy was trained to ignore the cries in the darkness.

The Blue Spirit cut the man’s shirt in two, then stuffed the torn fabric into his mouth. Light was dim here, but he could still see well enough as he drew a word into the man’s chest with the point of his blade, the blood welling up in its wake. It was not a deep cut, but The Blue Spirit believed it was far enough past shallow to scar.

When he was done, he dropped the knife and dissolved into the shadows, making his way back across the rooftops and towards the palace, where the man behind the mask lived. He sneaked back into his chambers, hid the clothes and the mask so they wouldn’t be found, and fell into bed.

Was he a hero or a villain? Was there a difference when a war had raged for a hundred years, and his people were both the enemies and the victors? Was he good? Was he bad? Was he somewhere in that grey space in between?

Zuko peered at his hands in the darkness. The hands that had broken the man’s wrist. The hands that had sliced _RAPIST_ into his chest, so it would never be forgotten. The hands that had killed more people than they’d saved.

He drew them close to his chest and curled on his side. Zuko was the prince of the Fire Nation, and he was a vigilante. Zuko was a mass of contradictions packed tightly into the body of a sixteen-year-old boy.

iii

Sokka tried not to let it bug him that Aang refused to come to dinner. With his hair and hood, he’d be unrecognisable as the Avatar, but Aang preferred to mope in his room like he had since he woke up on the ship yesterday.

“His loss!” Sokka deemed as they made their way through the tiny port town in search for dinner. They’d tried to dock once or twice a week for supplies, but it was hard to dock in larger ports when no one on board new the passcodes or where their ships should _actually_ be. It had gotten them into a tough spot at least once, and Katara had been forced to drown the entire ship to stop them from radioing that there was a captured vessel floating around the sea.

“We’ll bring him something back,” Katara said, as they came across a small, fairly empty restaurant. It was already dark outside, but in the Fire Nation, sunsets seemed to take longer; the burning orange of the sky taking well over an hour to finally dissipate to black. Plus, the volcanoes that circled the main island glowed through the night, many of them active. Toph had already announced that the small one on this particular island must’ve erupted at least twice in the past few decades; the layers of rock and dirt were infused with ash and a type of pumice stone that could only be formed when lava and water came into contact.

The town itself was… expendable, in that way, Sokka thought, as they seated themselves by the window and perused the menu. The buildings were the rough motte-and-bailey structures that weren’t meant to last, nor take long to build. It was difficult to find information on the Fire Nation, especially since someone had burned everything on the subject in Wong Shi Tong’s library, but Sokka would’ve thought the Fire Nation buildings would be less… flammable. Or maybe the volcanoes and their tendencies to erupt won out.

They chose a few nice meals, asking for one to be wrapped to go, and ate in relative silence at the table. What was there to talk about that they could say in front of strangers? How nice the weather was?

No, everything in Sokka’s life had become ridiculously classified. The Avatar was still alive. The Avatar had lost his bending. The Avatar was living on a captured Fire Navy ship and sulking in his bedroom.

_At least he still has airbending,_ Sokka thought grimly. If Aang had lost that, too? There would’ve been no hope left for the others to come back.

Katara was talking quietly about the food when Sokka’s eye caught on a figure walking through town and starting choking.

“Sokka!” Katara hissed, eyes wide and slapping him soundly between the shoulder blades. He choked up a piece of pork, scraping his chair back from the table to get a better look.

“You’re _kidding_ me,” he huffed, then: “They found us. We’ve gotta move.”

They stacked the trays of food, and left enough coin on the table to cover the meals, heading out of the restaurant and into the dimly lit street. Sokka was tempted to rush straight back to the boat, but he had to be sure – he had to _see her._

“What’s happening?” Katara demanded, chasing him out. They raised their hoods of their cloaks as Sokka started off down the street.

“I saw her,” he said.

“Saw _who?_ ”

“One of those girls. The ones with Azula.”

Katara’s face darkened and Toph picked up the pace behind him.

“Which one?” Toph asked.

“Uh, the pink one.”

“Ty Lee,” Katara supplied, her voice low. “She’s the one who took my bending just by—I don’t know, punching me in the arm.”

“Do you think something like that happened to Aang?” Toph asked, as Sokka poked his head around the corner and saw Ty Lee, carrying a large basket of fruit under her arm. This road seemed to taper away into a path up the side of the mountain that the volcano sat atop, and she headed that way with purpose.

“Maybe,” Katara said, “but it only lasted an hour or so—Aang hasn’t been able to bend _all day._ ”

They rounded the corner, heading down the road with a stack of meals in Katara’s hands, not wanting to leave them behind. They tried to look inconspicuous in the deserted street in their dark cloaks, but Sokka felt particularly ominous as they followed Ty Lee up the winding path.

“We should cut her off,” Toph said, her head tilted to the side. “If we go through the brush that way—” she pointed in the opposite direction of the path, “—we’ll beat her up to the building.”

“Do we know that’s where she’s going?” Katara asked.

“It’s the only one built on the side of the mountain,” Toph replied. “I think the path curls the whole way around.”

Sokka nodded, drawing his machete to cut through the brush. They trudged up the incline, thorns and branches scratching at their legs and catching on the fabric of their cloaks.

“What is she even doing out here?” Katara wondered aloud. “Wouldn’t she have gone back to the Fire Nation with _Zuko?_ ”

“Or, at least, she’d still be in Ba Sing Se,” Toph agreed. “They can’t just leave that place undefended now it’s been captured.”

Sokka whacked down a branch and stepped past it. “I don’t know, but whatever it is she’s doing out here, she won’t get away with it. We need to take her alone, in case any of the others are here—”

“You think Azula or Zuko might be here?” Katara asked. “This place is _deserted_ —”

“I don’t know,” he huffed. The other end of the path was drawing close. “Maybe they’re in hiding, or maybe this is their vacation home, but either way _Ty Lee_ is out here, and she wouldn’t be out here alone. At the very least, the goth chick is here too. But if we get her three-against-one, she won’t stand a chance, even _with_ her creepy bending-blocking karate.”

They climbed up onto the path and rushed along the path to where Toph promised a large structure stood from out of the mountainside. They slowed to a stop when they saw it.

“That’s not a vacation house,” Katara said.

Sokka sighed. “That’s a temple.”

“A _temple?_ ” Toph said. “It’s huge! It goes well into the mountainside—”

“Well that’s Fire Nation architecture for you,” Sokka said sadly. “Come on, we gotta cut her off before she reaches the temple.”

They jogged past the temple until Toph said she was close, then darted into the brush, hiding their diners and preparing to ambush her. It would be best if they caught her by surprise.

Ty Lee hummed to herself as she walked through the dark, the basket of fruit at her hip. Her hair was different to the last time Sokka had seen it; instead of in a high braid, it flowed long and loose, with strands from the front plaited together to join around the back of her head. Her clothes were strange, too, now Sokka got a good look; she wore a cloak over long, red robes, and her hands were adorned with golden jewellery.

What was she doing at a _temple?_ What reason would Zuko and Azula have for coming here either? Or sending one of their right-hand minions?

They didn’t have time to think about it, as Ty Lee was in front of them by now, and they leapt out, yelling. Sokka wielded his machete, whilst Katara and Toph landed in bending positions, ready to fight.

Ty Lee screamed, however, dropping her basket and letting the fruit tumble across the ground. She was immediately on her knees, her hands raised above her head in surrender, ducking her face into her robes as she pleaded, “Please don’t hurt me, I don’t have any money, please—”

“Uh,” Toph said.

“It could be a trick,” Katara suggested, though even she was wavering as Ty Lee muffled a sob.

Sokka lowered his weapon, just a little.

“Please, I live in the temple,” Ty Lee continued, “I don’t have anything you can take, but if you’d like, you can sleep in the temple tonight and eat at our table…”

“I could’ve sworn she was scarier last time we saw her,” Sokka sighed, lowering his machete completely. “Ty Lee? What’s gotten into you.”

She looked up suddenly, and Sokka almost raised his weapon again, except for the pure fear on Ty Lee’s face.

“Ty Lee?” she asked. “I’m not Ty Lee.”

“Uh,” Katara said. “ _Yes_ , you are. We know what you look like. We’ve fought you before, Ty Lee—”

“No, I mean—” Ty Lee sniffled and wiped the snot away with her palm. “I’m Ty Lao.”

“What?”

“I’m Ty Lao,” she repeated. “Ty Lee is my sister.”

“You look identical,” Sokka huffed, and Ty Lao let out a watery laugh.

“We’re identical septuplets,” she said.

“ _Septuplets?”_ Toph asked.

“Seven. There’s seven of us. We all look the same.”

“That’s gotta get confusing,” Katara muttered and Ty Lao nodded, sniffing.

“We get mistaken for each other a lot,” she admitted, “but never… like this.”

A beat passed before Katara and Toph moved out of their fighting stances.

“Um, let me help you up,” Katara said, stepping forward and taking Ty Lao’s arm. She helped her to her feet and Sokka put away his machete, reaching down to right her basket and start placing the fruit back inside. Toph helped as in the dim light, Sokka winced at how many of the fruits were bruised.

“We’re sorry,” Katara continued. “We have a… strange history with Ty Lee.”

“It does seem that way,” Ty Lao agreed. “Oh, thank you, you didn’t have to do that.” She accepted the basket that Sokka held out.

“No, we did. I’m sorry for scaring you,” he replied. _Ty Lee had identical sisters,_ it was mind-boggling to think about.

“We should—we’ll go,” Katara said, before reaching down to pick up their dinners.

“I understand,” Ty Lao said. She was dishevelled, her robes dirtied, and Sokka winced. He looked back at the temple, as she continued, “I am sorry for whatever slight my sister has made against you. It was my understanding that she was still performing with the Shuzumu Circus.” Ty Lao shook her head. “Either way, I must get going.”

“Of course,” Sokka said, standing aside for her to pass. “Do you—do you live at the temple?”

“Yes,” she replied, moving past him and Toph, towards her home. “I am an acolyte to the Fire Sages; it is my role and duty to be a guardian of the spirituality of the Fire Nation.”

“You’re not a Fire Sage, though?” Katara asked.

“No, only male firebenders with years of training can become a Sage,” she replied, her head lowered. “It is my honour to serve them, especially now in this time of great upheaval.”

She began to step away, but Sokka couldn’t help himself. “I’m sorry,” he started, and she looked back, warranted wariness in her eyes. “What do you mean by great upheaval?”

“Have you not heard?” she asked. “The Avatar is dead. Our returned prince, Zuko, killed him. As the ancient texts dictate, the new Avatar will be a waterbender. Fire Sages across the nation will be attempting to locate the new Avatar – they will likely be from the South Pole, due to the last being from the North.”

“What will they do if they find them?” Sokka asked.

Ty Lao considered this for a moment. “I imagine the Fire Lord will have them killed,” she said, “so the cycle may continue to earth, and then fire. If not, perhaps the Avatar will be brought to live here, in the Fire Nation, and trained within the palace. Our great ruler has much he could do with such a powerful bender.”

Sokka’s jaw locked and he nodded, thanking her and letting her return home in peace. After he’d seen her step into the temple, they started back down the path around the mountain, at first in silence, before Sokka cried, “How _could_ they?”

“Sokka,” Katara sighed.

“They’d steal a _baby!_ They’d _kill_ a baby! They’d invade the Water Tribe _again_ , and take a newborn baby and raise them to be Fire Nation, to be a killer. What kind of monster—”

“Sokka,” she said again.

“I _know._ I know. Tui and La, Katara – was anyone pregnant when we left? That’s at least six or seven months ago, right? Would we even _know_ if they were pregnant?” He huffed, rubbing a hand across his forehead. “What if the new Avatar is sitting in the Southern Water Tribe right now! What if the Fire Nation takes them!”

“Sokka,” Katara sighed. “They’re not. Aang’s not dead, remember? The Avatar Cycle hasn’t moved on yet.”

Sokka blinked, relief flooding his body. “Oh, yeah.”

Toph cackled and punched him in the arm. “In more important news – Ty Lee has _six identical sisters?_ ”

Katara laughed. “I hope they’re not all as evil as her,” she said. “We could take on one Ty Lee, but _seven?_ ”

“That one seemed nice,” Sokka said, “you know, after we threatened to kill her.”

The tension melted from their shoulders as they followed the path back down the mountain and towards the port, where their ship was waiting for them. It was even a good evening out, Sokka guessed, as he took his dinner from the pile and settled on the top deck with Toph to eat, as Katara delivered Aang’s to him.

And then the tension came right back, when Katara sprinted out of the stairwell with tears in her eyes.

“He’s gone!” she cried. “Aang’s gone! He’s run away.”

vi

It felt like someone had reached into his chest and scraped out his insides; hollowed out him out from top to bottom. There was nothing inside, just a reverberating echo, bouncing between his ribs.

It was a relief that his airbending was still there, but it was tainted by the loss of water and earth. Aang had worked so hard to learn them both – how could they just be _gone?_

A storm had brewed during the evening, and by the time he was soaring over the waves on his glider, rain was pouring down and thunder boomed overhead. Lightning crackled through the sky, each bolt a sharp memory of the Catacombs racing back into his mind. Katara and the Dai Li. Zuko and General Iroh and Azula. The shards of crystal. The warm, powerful glow of the Avatar State, lifting him off the ground. The way the stone felt when his body hit it.

He couldn’t have just _lost_ his bending. Who was he if he couldn’t even save Ba Sing Se? It was an impenetrable city, and under his watch it fell.

“What a worthless Avatar,” he muttered, soaring too low to the water now. The storm was coming in thick, and it was no time at all before a wave caught him, crashing down over his body and sending him tumbling through the water.

This was just like the night he ran away. Why was he always running? Why were storms always waiting for him when he did?

He burst out at the surface, gulping in air before he was forced under again. If he were a waterbender, he would be able to create a bubble around his body, or a personal hurricane to lift him above the waves. Aang thrust out his hands, willing the water to answer him. It was only a few weeks ago that he had called upon it and found it answering, ready – what had happened?

Why was he always failing as the Avatar?

At the surface once again, he swam over to his glider, taking a breather. He shouldn’t have run – without waterbending, he would drown. He’d felt drowning before, he’d felt it and it had been the Avatar State that saved him—

Aang gripped his glider tightly, then let go, sinking back beneath the waves. Foam crashed overhead, but sound down here was a reverberation chamber, filling his ears and making the storm sound like distant fists pounding against a door. The surface lit up with lightning streaks, but slowly, as he sank lower, his sight diminished, the water growing thick and dark.

He strained to hold his breath until it wasn’t possible anymore, gasping for air but swallowing only water. Suddenly, Aang realised his mistake. He needed to get back to the surface, he needed to swim – but his lungs were aching and spots danced across his vision, blotting it out.

Where was the Avatar State now? He’d locked it and unlocked it, he’d given up Katara and personal attachment in the Catacombs to beg for its return, but now it had abandoned him entirely.

_WHERE ARE YOU?_ he wanted to shout, but darkness swallowed him whole.

_ROKU?_

_KYOSHI?_

_PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME._

v

Mai was not in love with Zuko.

She was not sure she’d ever felt _love_ necessarily; there was nothing passionate about the way she’d ever felt for any of the Fire Colony boys she’d met in her father’s brief stint as governor before they took Omashu – now New Ozai – and even familial relationships were not strictly _loving._ They just were.

She supposed the closest feeling of love she’d ever felt was for her little brother Tom-Tom, but even three years from his birth, that was still muddled with resentment from him being only half hers and half her father’s new wife’s.

So she did not love Zuko, but she had liked him since she was young. She hadn’t witnessed his Agni Kai, hadn’t seen the destruction it wrought on his face until years later, had only been told by Azula that half of his face had been burnt off, right down to the bone. Mai only believed a slither of the things Azula said anyway, but she was still surprised to find Zuko’s burn not nearly as bad as described.

One of Zuko’s servants let her into his chambers.

“As soon as he leaves his meeting, I will inform him you are waiting, Lady Mai,” he informed her. “Is there anything I can fetch you in the meantime? Tea, perhaps?”

“No, thank you,” she responded, and the servant vanished out the door.

Zuko’s chambers were large with a high ceiling, en suite and entertaining area. It was a different room to the one he slept in as a child. Zuko had admitted that he’d expected to end up in his childhood bedroom, but had discovered soon after that the Fire Lord had had that room repurposed to hold storage. This new one was far more befitting for a prince, anyhow; the bed was separated from the main room with dividers, and a fireplace was mounted on one wall with chaise lounges and downy rugs sat before it.

Mai wandered his chambers, eyes glancing over everything with vague interest. Zuko, it seemed to her, was easy to figure out: he was angry, always, and he was yearning, always.

What he was angry at, she didn’t know, and what he was yearning for was also a mystery – but she knew those two things to be true. Very little else was known; just tid-bits of information, parts to a whole. His crew had been made up of mercenaries and they taught him how to drink rum and spirits; he was trained in swordsmanship as well as firebending; he had asked her to dance, even though he didn’t like dancing.

Her childhood crush had been long forgotten when she finally came face-to-face with him once more. It was a silly thing from her youth that rushed back, somehow, after the initial shock of how his face actually looked wore off.

She liked him, if she wanted to admit it to herself, and now he was home, living in the palace a mere two seconds from her front door, she was inclined to do so. He would be staying; he would possibly even earn back his title of Crowned, if Azula took her claws out of it. Mai wasn’t sure if Fire Lady was a role she had any interest in, but she knew how it would look for her family – the stature, the honour, the hierarchy. She knew it would bring honour to her family. She knew her father would be proud of her for it.

So Mai liked Zuko and that meant she wanted to fill the gaps between his anger and his yearning. She’d thought ahead and arrived early for their tea so she could look around his chambers and fit the pieces together. But, it seemed after so long at sea, Zuko had nothing that was _his._ The items in his room were perfunctory; an ink well and quill, parchment to write on, a small ornate chest with nothing sitting inside. There was a small painting of Fire Lady Ursa – may her soul blaze on in eternal glory – on the side table, and a set of dual broadswords hung up over the fireplace, as if they were for show, though Mai knew he could use them well.

She sighed through her nose, running her fingertip along the blade. It caught, and a bead of blood sat on the pad of her finger, bright red. Zuko had begun training with swords under Master Piandao when he was six. She knew this because Azula had told her when they were young, before she had mastered the art of lying. It tended to only be nonbenders who picked up weaponry – there was a reason Mai never saw any of the Avatar’s little bending friends use swords or morningstars; they didn’t need them. She herself had chosen to learn throwing knives when she was thirteen, more out of boredom than anything else. Zuko had been banished and suddenly Azula’s time was better spent learning how to be Fire Lord someday. When Ty Lee was off learning acrobatics, Mai had grabbed the kitchen knives and taught herself how to aim.

And Zuko—Zuko had been a late bloomer. Firebenders usually showed an aptitude when they were five, firebenders in _training_ usually showed earlier. Zuko was seven, a year into being a stain on the Fire Lord’s legacy, learning swordplay, when he finally set his bedclothes on fire in an argument with Azula.

Mai placed her bleeding finger in her mouth and wandered the room some more. There really was very little to learn. He hadn’t even filled the shelves with scrolls yet, hadn’t requested anything from the palace library to read. What did he _do_ with his time? He’d been back for two weeks; surely his days weren’t filled with _meetings,_ even Azula didn’t spend that much time in the war room.

There had to be more, surely.

She was standing in the middle of the room, sucking the blood from the tip of her forefinger, when there was a knock at the door, and Zuko’s servant re-entered.

“Lady Mai,” he said, bowing low. He held a long tray with a teapot, cups, and finger food on plates. “The prince will be here shortly; he asked me to bring this in for you.”

“You can put it on the table,” she said, gesturing to the one sat by the fireplace. She moved over, to get a better look at the food – was that mochi? Mochi’s her favourite – and in a heartbeat, they had bumped into each other; the tray clattering against the table and a cup hitting the floor and rolling towards the desk. The servant – Masado, was it? She hadn’t listened – was down on his knees in an instant, his forehead pressed to the ground.

“My deepest apologies, Lady Mai,” he grovelled, “I did not mean to cause such a mess.”

Mai exhaled an audible sigh and stepped away from him. “Whatever,” she said, waving a hand. She didn’t care for grovelling, never had. Instead, she stepped over to where the cup had rolled all the way to Zuko’s desk and beneath it, before crouching down to pick it up.

She paused for just a moment, catching sight of a flash of blue out of the corner of her eye. Mai grabbed the cup and straightened. The servant was still on the floor.

“Get up,” she sighed. “Is anything spilt?”

The servant clambered to his feet and checked over the tray. “I—I do not think so, my lady.”

“Then you are free to leave.”

“Thank you, thank you my lady.” He bowed low. “I am humbled by your grace.”

He stepped back out of the chambers and Mai placed the cup carefully on the tray. Once she was sure he was gone, she moved back over to the desk and crouched, peering up at the underside. She wouldn’t have found it had she not crouched down.

The mask of The Blue Spirit, a character from the play _Love Amongst the Dragons_ hung, perched between the two wooden beams of the desk. She considered it, rolling her lower lip. She didn’t know much about the play, but she knew about the vigilante that stole the Avatar from under General Zhao’s nose. Those kind of things got around; the Fire Nation Army was nothing if not a rumour mill.

She lifted a non-bloody finger and brushed along the exaggerated white features of the mask, then pulled the hand back. There had been a few stories of The Blue Spirit in the past week since the festival finished. The Blue Spirit saved a woman from a man in the night. The Blue Spirit fought a gang of thieves and left them broken in the street. The Blue Spirit stole money from a tax collector’s house and distributed it amongst the slums of the Caldera.

Mai stood and stepped away from the desk, moving herself onto the chaise lounge and thinking about this information carefully.

Had she not found that mask, she might’ve spent this tea with Zuko flirting or pointedly saying they should consider it a date. She might’ve even kissed him. But she _had_ found the mask. She _did_ know that he was The Blue Spirit.

And that meant she couldn’t do any of those things. She could not flirt with him, she could not kiss him, she could not fall in love with him, because it was quite clear to Mai that Zuko was not staying.

No prince that ran around in a costume in the night, stealing from the rich to give to the poor and fighting criminals was truly _happy._ And a Zuko who was not happy would sooner or later realise that he would have to leave, even if _this_ was the place he’d been longing to return to.

She sighed. She expected she’d see a rise in angry outbursts, a confusion in what he was yearning for.

The door to the chambers opened and Zuko entered, finding a smile for her despite how tired he looked.

“Tea?” Mai asked, sitting up.

She would make the most of the time she had, but she would not make his leaving harder for herself than it had to be.

**WANTED: THE BLUE SPIRIT**

MASKED VIGILANTE, WANTED FOR CRIMES AGAINST THE PEOPLE OF THE FIRE NATION.

DEAD OR ALIVE.

REWARD: ONE-HUNDRED GOLD PIECES.

> **Jeong Jeong said:**
> 
> Destiny? What would a boy know of destiny? If a fish lives its whole life in this river, does he know the river’s destiny? No! Only that it runs on and on out of his control. He may follow where it flows, but he cannot see the end. He cannot imagine the ocean.

vi

They saw his body washed up on the shore of a crescent-shaped island. Sokka brought Appa in low, panic rising in his chest. _No no no nonononono—_

“Aang!” Katara yelled as they drew close to the ground. She leapt down first, scrabbling over pumice rubble from the volcano that lava still trickled down from at the centre of the island. Sokka was close behind her, then Toph, the three of them scraping up their knees as they skidded to his side.

“Aang, buddy, wake up,” Sokka said, shaking his soaking shoulder.

Aang opened an eye and peered up at him. “I’m awake,” he said, monotone.

Sokka let out a sigh of relief, his body relaxing as he flopped backwards onto the rocky beach. “Don’t scare me like that, man,” he said.

“Aang, what happened to you?” Katara asked, helping him sit up.

Sokka stared up at the dark clouds above them; the storm that had raged on through the night was finally dissipating for the sunrise.

“I tried to go into the Avatar State,” he said.

“And?”

“It didn’t work. I can’t do it. What if it’s not possible at all?”

“Aang, buddy,” Sokka said, sitting back up. “You’re badly hurt, and you got _electrocuted._ Not only that, but you broke half the bones in your body when you hit the ground. Katara spent _days_ just putting you back together again. The fact that you can walk is a miracle.” Aang ducked his head, sheepish. “You’re pushing yourself too hard. It’ll come back.”

“You don’t know what it’s like,” Aang sighed. “Bending is—it’s like a limb. It’s just _there._ It’s always been there, even before I knew about it. Not having it is like having that limb cut off; I can still feel it, can still flex that hand, but it’s _gone._ It’s not really there.”

“It’ll come back,” Katara said anyway.

“You don’t know that. _None of us_ can know that. If I severed the connection to the Avatar Cycle, then who knows what’s happened to me by coming back to life. Maybe the Avatar is over.”

“Aang, don’t say that.”

“Maybe it is. I died in the Avatar State, the cycle has ended, and now I’m just… an airbender.”

“That’s not nothing,” Sokka said.

“But it’s not who I’m _meant_ to be.”

“You’re still the last of an entire people,” Toph said. “You’re still _you._ ”

“But without the Avatar, this war will never end. I won’t defeat Ozai before the comet comes without all four elements. The Fire Nation will win. The world will remain out of balance.”

They fell into silence. The tide washed up over their legs and back out again, the lava crackled in the distance, heat radiating across the small beach. Aang’s glider sat nearby, broken and torn.

“What happens now?” Toph asked.

They all looked at Aang, who climbed to his feet, wobbly and stumbling like a newborn antelope-deer. He threw the glider into the lava, and slung his arm over Sokka’s shoulders to help stay upright.

“I drowned last night,” he said, looking out at the ocean. “I was shot by lightning two weeks ago.” Aang sniffed. “Maybe I should’ve listened the first time.”

“Aang?” Sokka asked.

“The Avatar is dead. That’s the way it has to be.”

vii

Zuko pressed his hand against the throbbing pain in his side and winced. A peacekeeper had gotten a lucky hit in the night before, when he was out stealing from a councilmember he disliked. The Blue Spirit had been out every night for the past week, sweeping through the shadows and protecting his city. Somehow, Zuko felt a lot more like himself when he was wearing a mask.

He felt a lot more like himself when he was outside the palace.

The peacekeepers were on red alert about The Blue Spirit, despite the good he’d done. Previous transgressions against the empire and the more than brutal way of dealing with the violent criminals had gotten around fast. _RAPIST,_ the chest of one man read. _PEDOPHILE,_ read another. Prince Zuko had read the reports that ended up in the Prince’s meeting with his sister and the council – the latter of the two had been found with six broken bones and the child had been returned to their orphanage.

“A nonbender,” Azula had said, turning up her nose at the report. “Perhaps we should slap a uniform on him and give him some purpose.”

“Seems like he has plenty of _purpose_ already,” a councilmember had replied. Zuko had kept his mouth shut and a concerned wrinkle to his brow as he read over the things he’d done the night before.

“A bit contradictory, don’t you think?” Azula had said a minute later, sat at the head of the table by his side. She was very bored and it leaked off of her. This was the sort of mood that could lead to her causing trouble. “He gives money to the poor and then breaks their legs.”

“He hurt a child,” Zuko responded, terse. “The man deserved more than broken legs.” He would’ve _received more_ , too, if his cries hadn’t alerted the peacekeepers before Zuko could slit his throat.

“I agree,” Azula said smoothly, “but all these criminals The Blue Spirit has targeted – who do you think they are?”

Zuko frowned. “They’re criminals. They hurt people.”

“Yes, yes, but who _are_ they, Zuzu?” He locked his jaw over the nickname; he didn’t need to be any more of a laughing stock to these people. “They’re the exact same people he’s stealing money for. They’re peasants. Crime doesn’t happen out of nowhere, brother – they commit crimes because they have no money, no education—”

“Then why don’t we _give them_ money and education?” he retorted.

“Because they’re peasants,” Azula replied. “When they provide value, they’ll receive their rewards.”

The Blue Spirit had still gone out the next night, but he was still thinking about Azula’s words. His people were suffering even in the Caldera, where the richest in the nation lived in opulence. The further you drew from the palace, the more cramped together the houses became; slums, poor living on top of poor, or out on the streets, with no money and no options. Despite his position, he still couldn’t do anything – not without the respect that was earned over years of loyal service to the throne.

Ozai could get these people schooling and homes - Agni, even _Azula_ could. The best Prince Zuko could do for now was stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. Maybe one day, The Blue Spirit had thought, sitting on the rooftop and watching through the window of a house as a woman discovered the bag of gold coins he’d tossed into their kitchen, when he was given back his title, he could make _real change._ He could take some of the money that funded their war and give it to the people at home. He could save his country from themselves.

Then The Blue Spirit had cut himself off. He would never become the Crowned Prince again. Azula would not give that position up willingly; it would be a fight, a duel, and between he and his sister, Azula always won.

Zuko looked up as the door to his chambers burst open, and then sat up after, as Ty Lee called “Zuko!”, accompanied by Masado’s harried requests for her to wait outside and not disturb the prince.

Ty Lee bounded around the room divider, a grin on her face, and leapt onto the end of his bed. Masado’s face was red.

“I am so sorry, Your Highness,” Masado said, bowing low. “I didn’t not realise—”

“It’s okay, Masado,” Zuko said, yawning. He then looked to Ty Lee. “Have you ever heard of knocking?”

“There’s absolutely _no time!_ ” she replied, an excited squeal in her voice. Ty Lee crawled further up the bed and Masado’s face resembled a tomato from the impropriety of it all. Zuko, who had known Ty Lee since they were both small, back before they even knew he was a bender, had seen Ty Lee do far more improper things than sit on his bed.

“You can go, Masado,” he instructed, just to keep his attendant from having a coronary. “I assume you have news?”

“Do _I ever!_ ” Ty Lee grabbed his arm, grinning. “We’re going on vacation!”

“Vacation?”

“To Ember Island! With all the war preparation going on, and that pesky invasion coming up, the Fire Lord thinks we should have some time away before the fighting gets tough.”

Zuko frowned, many questions swirling, but only asked, “Who’s _we?_ ”

“Me, you, Mai and Azula, of course!” She tipped her head to the side. “I think Lo and Li are coming too. They’re our chaperones, and they have a vacation home on Ember Island we can stay at.”

“When are we leaving?”

“As soon as you’re ready. My things are already packed – I’ve been awake since sun up. Azula’s sent a servant to wake Mai, and then we’ll get on a boat and head out for the island. Oh, won’t it be so fun! We never get to spend time together!”

“Ty Lee, we’re _always_ together.”

“Well, I mean, for the past two weeks,” she said, settling down. “But for the three years before that, we didn’t see you at _all._ And Mai was gone to the colonies a lot. When the Fire Nation founded New Ozai, she was moved out there, too. Did you know rebels stole baby Tom-Tom for a while?”

“She told me.”

“So sad. And I was away with the circus! See, barely any time spent together at _all._ Besides, Ember Island is _so romantic._ ”

“Is it, now?” Zuko asked, raising his eyebrows and flinging off the covers.

He was about to climb out of bed when Ty Lee leaned forward, grabbing his arm again and saying, “I meant for you _and Mai._ ” She wiggled her eyebrows around, and Zuko rolled his eyes, tugging his arm back and standing. He ignored the thump of pain in his side.

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” he informed her, moving to the closet.

“What? But she’s had the biggest crush on you for literally ever!”

“She doesn’t act like it,” Zuko replied.

“Well, that’s because she’s _Mai._ She doesn’t act like anything.”

He shrugged, glancing back at her. “I’m not sure I’m interested in her, anyway. Everything still feels so confusing right now – I’m not sure if I could even handle a relationship.”

Ty Lee sighed dramatically and slumped back into the cushions as Zuko picked out a tunic. No doubt Masado would return soon with a handful of attendants to pick out his clothes for the trip. He turned back to Ty Lee, who smiled at him.

“Your bed is _so much comfier_ than mine,” she declared. “Do you think I could have this mattress delivered to my house?”

Zuko couldn’t help but smile. Ty Lee was a lot; a force to be reckoned with, a hurricane of personality, always on – but she was the only one who _tried,_ he found. She was the only one who smiled at him like there was nothing wrong with him at all.

Like there never had been.

viii.

The Fire Nation was not made of dancers.

One thing Katara didn’t think the Fire Nation would have a line drawn about is dancing. She hadn’t danced in the Southern Water Tribe in a few years, but they’d long lost most of their tribe, and with them, most of their musicians.

But the Fire Nation? Thriving in a war of their own creation? Not dancing was simply ridiculous.

It was the first time Aang had really smiled since waking up when he announced he was going to give the kids at the school he’d accidentally enrolled in a dance party. Katara thought it was one of the more ridiculous ideas he’d come up with, but that didn’t mean it was _bad_ , it just meant that maybe he was feeling a little better, despite the circumstances.

The party was in the large cave they were squatting in; all lit up with lanterns and glowing warmly. It wasn’t a bad party either, and Katara was happy to dance with Aang, with Sokka and even Toph, who’d never been taught any dances and so just jumped around gleefully, letting Sokka swing her around.

But they were only half way through, with the Fire Nation kids only beginning to crack out of their shells, when Katara noticed that Aang had vanished. She searched for him high and low – why were all the kids wearing their school uniforms? Why did they insist on dressing the same? – before she found him in the crawl space Toph had formed as an access tunnel to where Appa was hidden. Katara crawled in, the shadow swallowing her as the tunnel curled away from the yellow lights.

“Fun party,” she said, settling by his side. Aang hummed non-committally. “It was a good distraction for a while there.”

“I really tried Katara, but I can’t be optimistic about this. My bending is _gone._ The Avatar State is _gone._ I can’t just hide out in the Fire Nation, waiting for the invasion when I know that I can’t even defeat the Fire Lord anymore.”

Katara sighed. It had been two days since the beach on the crescent island. They’d tried to take their minds off the problem at hand, stealing clothes and going to school and dressing up in wacky costumes as Aang’s parents, attending a meeting with his headmaster. _Wang and Sapphire Fire_ were the worst disguises Katara had ever heard of, but the headmaster had barely blinked an eye. Even this, a dance party in a cave, was a vain hope of bringing some normality back to their lives – some crazy shenanigans or wacky hijinks they’d laugh about later.

It just felt fake, somehow. Like they didn’t mean it.

“We’ll figure this out,” Katara said. “I know we will.”

“ _When?_ Because I’m getting tired of it, Katara. I can feel the place where my bending should be.” He pressed his fingertips against his sternum, exactly opposite of the lightning scar on his back. “I didn’t even know it was there until it had gone, but now I feel that empty space. Even _firebending_ is gone, I know it, and I couldn’t even do that!”

Katara sighed out her nose, tipping her head back against the wall of the crawl space. The music from the party sounded distant and thin from here.

“Things have never been easy for you,” Katara said. “Any time you’ve had to do anything Avatar related, there’s been a struggle first.” She could feel Aang’s eyes on her, so she powered on. “You ran away a hundred years ago, only to be here now. Before you could even learn waterbending, we had to travel the world and face pirates. Even in the North Pole, we _struggled,_ Aang. It took so long to find an earthbending teacher, and then when you did, you didn’t pick it up for _days._ Not even the tiniest bit. And firebending was a wash with Jeong Jeong—”

“I burned you,” Aang said, his voice hollow.

“With the Avatar State, you struggled with Guru Pathik. Even contacting Roku was hard, remember? You had to go to a _specific_ temple on a _specific_ island within two days to meet him on the solstice!”

“That’s it,” Aang said, bolting forward. “Maybe I need to go to his temple.”

Katara pulled a face. “Didn’t it, uh, burn down when all that lava buried it?”

Aang pulled a face in the dark. “There are other temples,” he decided. “Maybe I can’t access my Avatar abilities because Azula’s lightning just… damaged the Avatar State.”

“You think that’s possible?”

“I died, Katara. What if I need to go and reconnect with Roku and my past lives before I can access all those parts of myself again. Then the Avatar Cycle will fix itself!”

He was smiling again, and that made Katara smile too, even if she worried it would just be another hope, soon to be dashed.

“I even know of a temple,” she said suddenly. “It’s not too far from here, we could be there by sunrise.”

“That’s a _totally spiritual time of day,_ ” Aang agreed, and the two crawled out of the hole, rushing back around the party to grab Sokka and Toph to go. It was lucky they decided to go when they did, because it seemed the headmaster of Aang’s school had been alerted to the party and was _very_ unhappy about it.

Toph widened the crawl space and they ran through the tunnel, blocking it off behind them. The headmaster was still struggling to find Aang – or _Kuzon,_ as he insisted he be called – as Appa soared away through the night.

ix

The volleyball court was a flaming wreck on the beach, but Azula and her team were victorious, which was what really mattered. She flicked her hair, smiling sweetly at their competitors – some nonbending Ember Island low-lives and the one with the newly broken ankle. What a shame she took a tumble like that during the match.

“Come on,” Azula said, turning back to her team. “I’m in the mood for ice cream.”

“Oh, me too!” Ty Lee agreed, bounding off ahead of her towards the ice cream stand. Zuko collected his shirt and followed along with Mai. It had not escaped Azula’s notice that he was getting along with her friends well these days. She did not particularly want to share, but perhaps it was better to keep him close by, the four of them tangled in some sort of knot, where they could all be reached when she needed them.

Azula sighed, reclining onto her beach towel and holding a hand up to block the sun. This vacation was a waste of her time. The invasion would be at the Fire Nation’s gates in only a few weeks, coinciding with an eclipse. Azula had never lived to see one, though if the rumours were true, the blackening of the sun would render her firebending inept. But for the time being, they were here, and it was clear to her that utterly no one was aware of the royalty in their presence.

“What else do commoners do?” she asked as the others settled beside her. Ty Lee was off buying the ice creams; Azula rolled her eyes at the boys that sidled over, yearning for her attention. _She_ was far prettier than Ty Lee, but she was also more intimidating, not for the weak of heart.

“How are we supposed to know?” Mai drawled, taking the towel beside her and manoeuvring the beach umbrella in the sand so the shade passed over them in cool relief.

“I didn’t mean you,” Azula said. “Zuzu, you lived with the riffraff. What else do they do?”

Zuko grumbled under his breath, flopping back on his towel. “I don’t know,” he said.

“Oh, sure you do,” Azula retorted. “You’ve been all around the world – you’re _far_ more well-travelled than the rest of us. What do young, attractive teenagers do on vacation?”

He sent her a side-eyed glare. His nerves were so easy to poke at. He left them bare and unarmoured like he expected her not to provoke.

“They have parties,” he said at last, covering his eyes with his arm. “And they have fun. They tell jokes.”

“We could tell jokes,” Azula said, as Ty Lee reappeared, holding two ice cream cones. Azula took the larger of the two. “Did you hear the one about the lion-cows on the pirate ship?”

“You’re not good at jokes,” Zuko muttered.

“There was a _moo-_ tiny.”

Ty Lee laughed uproariously. No one else did. Azula rolled her eyes and slumped back on her arm, licking at the ice cream. There were three boys nearby, just oogling Ty Lee. It was her outfit, Azula decided; all lowcut and revealing. Ty Lee’s personality was so flimsy that she had to use her body to gain attention – that’s how it went with acrobatics, and that’s how it went with boys. Azula, charming and intelligent above all others, didn’t need middle-born teenage boys gawking after her. She was heir to the most powerful nation on the planet.

One day, all of these _boys_ would bow to her as Fire Lord.

“Fine, then,” she decided. “A party. Ty Lee, you found that party in the Caldera. Where do you think another might be?”

Ty Lee giggled. “Funny you should ask, I was invited to one tonight by those cute boys over there!” She wiggled her fingers at them and one swooned.

“Of course you were,” Azula muttered. Her ice cream melted in her hand.

The party, several hours later, after a day of lying around the beach and swimming in the warm water of the ocean, was mostly a bust. Ty Lee tried to convince Azula that she needed to be better at flirting, but all it really did was prompt a tall, handsome boy to kiss her and become immediately frightened by her drive and power. She’d returned to see Mai talking to a boy in the corner, not smiling at all but with the look in her eye that told Azula she was interested, and then had to march up to Zuko and ask what in Agni was going on.

Azula didn’t necessarily _like_ Zuko being chummy with her friends. She didn’t like the split in their loyalty, however minor – but Mai had been fawning over her older brother since the dawn of time, and now he was just letting her get away? Ridiculous. Except—

“I’m not interested, Azula,” he said from the buffet table, taking a handful of flaming fire flakes. Azula was struck suddenly with the memory of she and Zuko as children, sneaking into the kitchen to steal fire flakes and rice candy; she was too short to reach the cabinets so he lifted her up onto the counter. He’d always had a taste for spicy and she’d always had a taste for sweet, and they’d eat their precious treasures in the secret hallways Azula had found, leading to the roof or down deep into the bunker, giggling at their victory. “She can flirt with whoever she wants.”

“It’s _Mai,_ dummy, you’re not going to find anyone better,” Azula informed him. “Very few people will be as understanding and caring of you than someone who has known you since you were young and bearable.”

Zuko raised an eyebrow at her. “I was _bearable?_ ”

“Almost tolerable,” she retorted.

“I don’t want the bare minimum,” he said after a beat. “I don’t know what I want, but I don’t think it’s a safety net.”

Azula huffed. What was _with_ Zuko? Mai was a high-born wealthy noble, for Agni’s sake! She was anything but a safety net; she came with an expensive dowry and a father who was the governor of New Ozai, one of the new Earth Kingdom captured cities. Mai was raised from birth to be the wife of a royal, and he considered her a _safety net?_

Perhaps Zuko’s time away had swirled his brains around and made a soup in his head.

“I’m bored of this party,” she said suddenly. Maybe he needed to be reminded who he was. “We should go.”

“Where?” Zuko asked, incredulous. “There’s nothing on this miserable rock.”

“Don’t be so downtrodden, Zuzu,” Azula sighed. “Let’s collect Mai and Ty Lee and go.”

“I’ll get Ty Lee,” Zuko said, leaving before Azula had a chance to tell him that _No, he should be getting Mai._ She rolled her eyes and grabbed Mai, making a false apology to the boy she was tearing her away from. At the door, she searched for Zuko, pressing up onto her tiptoes to see over the heads of the party.

“What is Zuko _doing?_ ” Mai asked suddenly.

Azula followed her gaze to where Zuko stood between a group of boys and Ty Lee. She’d worn a very pretty white dress to the party, but the front panel was now stained with red. Zuko’s fist was on fire and he was clearly riling up for a fight with the locals.

She considered going over to help, but she’d rather watch and see. The first boy lurched towards Zuko, and he quickly redirected them into the side table; his head going straight through the ornamental vase. The shattering caught everyone’s attention, and the host – the cowardly boy Azula had kissed on the balcony – cried, “What are you _doing?_ ” just as the second boy threw himself forward. Zuko’s hand trailed red fire as he threw him to the side.

The other boys were hesitant to join in on the fight, and when Zuko darted forward, stamping his foot down, they leapt back and scattered.

“That’s what I thought,” she heard him say, before the flames vanished and he turned back to Ty Lee.

The host was already yelling for them to leave, and Zuko, in his riled state, purposefully broke another vase on the way out, escorting Ty Lee with an arm around her shoulders.

“What, pray tell, was that?” Azula asked pointedly, as Mai opened the front door and they stepped out into the cold night air.

“Those boys got really mean when Zuko said we were leaving,” Ty Lee pouted. “One of them split their drink on my dress, and another said I wasn’t going anywhere. Zuko fought them off though! That was so _brave_.” She darted up on her toes to press a kiss to Zuko’s cheek, right on his scar, and Azula caught the slight blush to his good cheek before she turned to assess Mai’s reaction. She wasn’t even looking. _Typical._

“They were assholes,” was all Zuko said.

“Boys can be so demanding,” Ty Lee sighed. The group descended the steps of the house, the yellow of the party fading behind them. “They’re all happy and polite when _I’m_ happy and polite, but as soon as I feel anything else, they turn on me.”

“You’re a happy and polite person,” Azula said, dismissing her with a wave of her hand.

“But I have other feelings too,” Ty Lee replied. “They just don’t care.”

“Of course they don’t. You’re a pretty girl in a pretty dress. They’re not here for _you_ , they’re here for what you can provide.”

“What’s that?” Ty Lee’s voice sounded so innocent, so questioning.

Azula sighed, her feet touching the sand of the beach. She turned to give Ty Lee a condensing shake of her head. “You’re a girl to be fucked, Ty Lee—”

“ _Azula_ ,” Mai said, sharp.

“I’m not wrong,” she replied, shrugging and swivelling, to lead them up the beach. The family vacation home wasn’t far from here, just a little up the hill, hidden amongst the trees and brush. It was funny that they were staying at Lo and Li’s narrow little house when the royal family’s home was so large and empty. “They want to bed you, Ty Lee. That’s what you’re worth to them. And as for what you’d provide, I’d assume it’d be some entertainment and good birthing hips.”

“Azula, shut up,” Zuko said.

“So touchy.”

“You’re being a bitch.”

“ _Me?_ A bitch?” Azula laughed, glancing behind her to see Ty Lee tucked into Zuko’s side, her eyes watery. Mai was glaring more than usual, walking between Ty Lee and Azula like some pathetic guard. Of _course_ they were ganging up on her – Azula against everybody, just as it had always been. “Whatever,” she said. “Come on. It’s not far.”

She led them up the hill, then up the front steps of the house. It was a mansion, really; a large square house with two floors and pitched roofs. There was a wide, square courtyard in the centre with a fountain, though she imagined that had run dry by now.

The front doors were bolted shut, and she kicked them open. The doors whacked noisily against the walls.

“Why are we here?” Zuko asked.

“A little trip down memory lane?” Azula stepped into the darkness of their old vacation home. “Find some kindling,” she said, “we’ll have a bonfire.”

They split up and explored the house; the old bedrooms and furniture that collected dust in the years since they last visited. They hadn’t been back since Mom vanished – or was exiled, as Azula was inclined to believe. The sequence of events surrounding Fire Lady Ursa’s disappearance was clear to her: Father asked for Uncle’s throne; Grandfather asked for Zuko’s execution; Mom killed Grandfather to stop it happening, and Mom left for her crimes. She wasn’t sure how much of it Zuko understood, or how much he was inclined to ignore. Azula picked up an old painting of Ursa and scraped away with the dust with her fingernail.

She thought about the words _You’re being a bitch_ and then scoffed before turning and slamming her foot through an old chair. It cracked into pieces.

“What was that noise?” Mai called from the next room over.

“Just making firewood,” Azula replied. She crumpled her mother’s image in her hand.

Not long later, they carried their firewood down to the beach and commandeered an empty fire pit. Zuko lit the wood once they built it up, and then four of them then sat back, warming themselves in the flames.

Azula said, “I’m sorry for… being a bitch.” She didn’t really mean it.

Ty Lee’s head perked up. Her tears were long gone anyway. “That’s alright, Azula. We all have our moments.”

“I just think you’re very naïve, is all,” Azula continued. Perhaps she would have stopped, if Ty Lee hadn’t called her telling the truth a _moment,_ like it was a bad thing. “You want attention and you’ll take it from anyone, including boys who only want you for their own depraved fantasies.”

Ty Lee’s head ducked down again. _Good,_ Azula thought.

“I don’t think wanting attention is a bad thing,” Ty Lee said a minute later. “I think if someone wants attention, maybe they need it.” Azula scoffed and Ty Lee continued, “No! Really! Why do you think I perform, Azula?”

“Mm, because you like being the centre of attention.”

“ _Exactly,_ ” Ty Lee replied. “And why do I like being the centre of attention?”

Azula sighed. She was already bored of this game. “Because you have some ridiculous need to be liked.”

“No. Because I’m one of seven identical sisters, so I _never_ got attention growing up,” Ty Lee replied. “Because I’ve always been part of a matched set. Because no one ever saw Ty Lee, they only saw Ty Woo or Ty Lin or Ty Lat. One day, we each chose an identity. We each picked something that would be _ours_ and no one else’s. Something to define ourselves with.”

“And you picked _pink?_ ”

“No, I picked gymnastics,” Ty Lee said. “I joined the circus, where there was only _one_ of me. Just like Ty Lum works in a bakery, and Ty Lao is an acolyte at a Fire Sage temple. I think Ty Liu is a seamstress and Ty Lin is training for the Royal Fire Navy.” She huffed and flopped back onto the sand. “It’s like you don’t know me at all, Azula. We’ve been friends since we were little and you don’t even know that fundamental part of who I am.”

“Well you don’t know _me, either,”_ Azula shot back. “Do you know why I’m such a _bitch_?” She sent a glare to Zuko, who didn’t even catch it. He was lying back on the sand too, staring at the night sky. “My mother loved Zuko more than she loved me.”

“Our father loved you more than he loved me,” Zuko replied. “You’re not special.”

Azula growled. “She thought I was a monster—”

“He thought I was a failure.”

“She only saw the awful in me—”

“He burned off half my face and exiled me as a child.” Zuko sat up and Azula sent him her most scathing glare. How _dare_ he steal her moment. “Azula. We lived the same childhood together. We were raised by the same people.” He sighed. “How did we turn out so different?”

“So _wrong_ you mean?”

“Yes,” he said, soft, and flopped back down again. “That’s what I mean.”

Mai said, “Maybe this vacation was a bad idea.”

Azula couldn’t agree more.

x

Ty Lao looked so exactly like Ty Lee it was unnerving.

What was also unnerving was the way she seemed to watch them with a hawkish gaze. They were wearing their Fire Nation disguises and Aang’s tattoos were still hidden with sleeves and headbands and a head full of short hair, but it seemed like she didn’t like them much at all.

Sokka said they’d attacked her in the street though, so Aang supposed it made sense.

What _didn’t_ make sense was how no matter how long he meditated for before the statues of Fire Nation Avatars past, he couldn’t connect with them. Sokka and Katara had convinced Ty Lao to let him meditate in peace – they’d fed her a lie that supposedly he’d had a vision, and needed a sacred place to meditate and understand – and asked for a tour of the temple, which Ty Lao had eventually agreed to. Toph was look out at the door, and Aang just sat there, straining.

It shouldn’t be this _hard._

It should be like breathing.

In, the real world, out, the spirit world.

In, he slipped, out, through planes.

In, he crossed, out, the bridge.

But he was just _here._ Frozen, static, in a space that he _felt_ was sacred, but couldn’t access the holiness of.

Roku stared down at him with unseeing stone eyes.

On either side, Niman and Tagi, Hasimo and Ozang.

Avatars from hundreds of years ago, past lives he could not reach, could not touch.

He kept trying though, as long as the tour took and the forced distractions on his friends’ parts. But it didn’t come. He couldn’t talk to Roku, he couldn’t slip into the Avatar State, he couldn’t access his bending.

He remembered a time that didn’t feel that long ago when all he wanted was to be normal. _Just_ an airbender. Not the Avatar. So why did it feel so awful now, unable to connect to his past lives? Had he started to _enjoy_ being the Avatar? Aang couldn’t figure it out. This should’ve been his way back: this truth, this knowledge should’ve been a relief. The weight was slipping from his shoulders and he didn’t have to carry the world anymore.

He could just be a kid.

A kid in a war, hopelessly outnumbered and outmatched, but a kid all the same.

Whether it was a good thing, Aang didn’t know. But he thought everyone else knew the truth of the matter, but had just chosen to skirt it.

He looked over to Toph, standing at the door.

“It’s not gonna work,” Aang said, his voice heavy.

“Are you sure, Twinkletoes?” Toph replied. “Maybe you need to take it from another angle – you know, like an airbender.”

He shook his head. “There aren’t any other angles, it’s time to face this head on.”

“What do you mean? What are you going to do?”

Aang sighed and stood, stretched out his arms until he heard the joints pop.

“There’s nothing _to_ do,” he decided. “I can’t bend anything but air anymore. I can’t enter the Avatar State, and Roku is silent. There’s no connection anymore.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m not the Avatar anymore.”

“Aang—”

“I’m the last airbender of the Air Nation. I’m the last of my culture. But I’m not the Avatar. I can’t defeat the Fire Lord and save the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think this is actually one of my favourite chapters???? if only because i LOVED writing azula. i wasn't going to write from her perspective because she's a very intimidating character, but i think i found that she's overall my favourite to write from.
> 
> anyway! thank you for reading! thanks for all the comments on the last chapter, pretty please talk to me here too! i'm almost finished writing the fic and i'm gonna start on a few stories that take place after the events of 'the greatest change' so comments are gonna fuel me lmao
> 
> thank you!!


	3. the puppetmaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is A Chapter, that's for sure. it's pretty zuko-centric but what do you really expect from me?????
> 
> i'm just gonna throw it out there now that there WILL BE untied loose ends in this fic. i'm not going to tell you what they are, but not everything will be solved, and that is an active decision i've made so i can write fics on each loose end as follow-ups to this one lmao. i don't want you guys to get discouraged if you see a fun plot line seemingly forgotten about - it's not forgotten, i have it written down, it's just going to get a fic of its own to combat it. thank you and goodbye

> **Iroh said:**
> 
> It is time for you to look inward, and begin asking yourself the big questions: who are _you?_ And what do _you_ want?

i

His first night back in the Fire Nation, some three weeks after Ba Sing Se, Zuko visited Iroh. He had gone plenty of times under the cover of darkness, before or after he took to the streets as The Blue Spirit, but each time, Uncle would say nothing. He would stare in stony silence as Zuko wound himself up tighter and tighter.

But this time felt different.

Beneath his cloak, his pack was heavy with food and money, with a bedroll and a mask and his swords. The knife Uncle had sent to him from the Earth Kingdom – _never give up without a fight_ – was tucked in the belt at his waist. There were two changes of clothes in his pack, as well as a pouch of Earth Kingdom coins. He had lived the life of a peasant before; he could do it again.

Uncle looked to be sleeping when Zuko arrived, but this was regularly the case. Uncle pretended to sleep while Zuko yelled – he knew what his uncle looked like asleep, knew the deep, steady breathing he’d take on. This was not that – it never was in prison.

“Uncle,” he whispered after the door clanged shut behind him. He knelt down by the bars. “Uncle, are you awake?”

Nothing, as usual. Zuko listened to the breathing. He was not asleep.

“Uncle, I won’t be able to visit you again. Not for a long time – not until… until everything is different. I’ve spent the last few weeks unsure of myself, unsure of the decisions I’ve made. I thought that once I made one, I would have to stick by it; you taught me to have confidence in the choices that I make. But recently, I’ve come to realise that maybe… maybe I can change my mind.” He swallowed, pressing his forehead against the cold of the bars. “If I’ve made a mistake, I should be able to admit to it, I should make it right and make another choice… right?”

He waited for Uncle to roll over, to tell him he was right. He did no such thing and Zuko shut his eyes tight.

“Two weeks today there will be a total solar eclipse. Eight minutes in which firebending won’t be possible. I know what you’re capable of; I’ve seen it. You’re the Dragon of The West. You’ve stormed cities and you’ve faced armies. If there is a day you can escape, its then. Apparently, it’ll be about noon, though I’m not sure how you’d be able to tell in here.” Zuko sniffed and looked up. Uncle had rolled over and now watched him with a steely gaze in the dark.

“Uncle,” he breathed. His uncle made no response, just watched. “You were right. I shouldn’t have followed Azula. We went to Ember Island and I realised… I realised that I have everything I’ve ever wanted and I’m still unhappy. I thought the problem was me. I was angry at myself for it. Angry that I couldn’t find happiness even in my own _home._ And then—and then I realised that my father taught me a lesson on my _face._ My own father cast me out and sent me on a fool’s errand. There was no sign that the Avatar would _ever_ have come back, Uncle. He _wanted_ me gone for good, but he couldn’t say it. He couldn’t banish his son, but he _could_ teach me a lesson.”

Zuko’s knuckles turned white around the bars.

“I’m going to join the Avatar,” he whispered, so quiet he could barely hear it himself. “I’m going to teach him firebending, and I’m going to bring honour back to this country. I’m going to end this war, Uncle.”

Uncle Iroh continued to stare, like he was still waiting for something that Zuko didn’t know how to find. Zuko stopped himself from yelling after what it was he wanted Zuko to say, just let out a long, heavy breath.

He pulled the knife from his belt and placed it on the stone floor between the bars. He slid it over to Uncle, who moved suddenly to catch it.

“You sent that home to me from Ba Sing Se,” Zuko said. “I’ve carried it for years.” He watched Uncle unsheathe the blade and hold it up to the thin slither of moonlight.

“Made in the Earth Kingdom,” Uncle read.

“The other side.”

“Never give up without a fight.”

Zuko nodded and stood.

“This is yours, Prince Zuko,” Uncle said, quietly, sheathing the blade.

“Then you can give it back once this is over,” Zuko replied. “When the Fire Lord has been defeated and peace has been brought back to the four nations.”

There was a sharp gasp from outside the door, and Zuko flung it open to find a guard, staring at him with wide eyes. He was the only one in the corridor and easy to knock out. He looked back through the opening at his uncle, who still held the blade and stared after him.

“I’m sorry for turning my back on you,” Zuko said. “I’ll earn your respect back. I swear it.”

Then the door shut and Zuko hefted the body of the guard over his shoulder. They’d apparently been listening in and Zuko couldn’t have them ratting him out so soon after his escape. He still needed to make it out of the Caldera and onto a ship to another island; he’d already spent the entire journey back from Ember Island trying to figure out the route the Avatar might take – he was prone to bouncing around in seemingly random directions, but would likely need somewhere quiet but nearby to the central city of the Fire Nation to mount the incoming invasion. He’d work backwards, maybe kick up enough of a fuss in a few different towns and keep an eye out for who came after him.

In the meantime, he needed to simply vanish into thin air.

So he sneaked the guard out of the prison, sent up a quick apology to Agni, and slit his throat in the brush out back.

Then, Prince Zuko vanished from the Fire Nation, just like Fire Lady Ursa had some six years before; a sweep of a cloak in the night, and he melted into the shadows.

ii

Katara understood, broadly, that this was unnatural. That _bloodbending_ was unnatural. She understood that it stood in direct defiance of free will, that she was controlling others, that she had total power and dominance over their bodies.

Like she owned them.

Like she was pulling on their strings, a puppetmaster making her puppets dance.

But she had to admit, it felt _good._

It felt _empowering._

It felt like she was more than she had ever been, standing beneath the full moon, bending the blood in Hama’s body to keep her rigid and tense.

“Very good,” Hama said, a twisted tutor praising her twisted pupil. “You’re a natural, Katara. A _master._ ”

It was only a few days after they decided they’d meet the Water Tribe men at the rendezvous point for the day of the invasion that they’d stumbled across this town; only a day or so after they’d left the temple and Ty Lao behind. Somehow, they’d managed to find the one waterbender hiding out in the Fire Nation. The only one, and she was a _bloodbender._ Katara had never heard of such a thing before, but Hama unlocked that part of her. It wasn’t much different from healing. She just had to reach into the body, follow the chi paths, the flow of energy, and identify the droplets of water that journeyed beneath the skin.

Hama was _hers_ to control.

She made her raise her arms in the air. She made her step to the side. She made her kneel, arms behind her once more.

“ _Feel_ the power of the moon,” Hama instructed. “Tui and La, push and pull.”

Hama had never returned home, though Katara couldn’t fathom why. She had stayed amongst enemies for decades – doing what? Draining fire lilies and running a bed and breakfast?

The sheer power of bloodbending coursed through Katara’s veins – _this_ was it. _This_ was the upper hand. Who could possibly stand in the way of a waterbender under a full moon? She wanted to face Zuko now, make him kneel and beg and cry. She wanted to twist Azula’s arms until they snapped from the pressure. She wanted to make Fire Lord Ozai suffer.

Katara dropped Hama, feeling the weight of reality sink onto her shoulders. She lowered into a crouch and wiped the sweat from her brow. Had she thought those things? Had she _really_ thought those things?

“You will continue my work excellently,” Hama said, her old bones creaking as she rose to her feet. The old woman closed the gap between them and placed a firm hand on Katara’s shoulder. “The Fire Nation will pay for what they did to our tribe. For what they did to _us._ ”

 _There’s screaming under the mountain,_ Toph had said the night before.

 _Villagers go missing on the full moon,_ the townspeople had told them throughout the day.

 _Who could possibly stand against two master waterbenders?_ Hama had asked her, only minutes before.

The pieces connected together mere seconds before Aang’s voice echoed through the woods: “Hama stole the villagers! Katara! Hama abducted the villagers!”

She heard Hama’s intact of breath as she gasped in her own, then rose suddenly, slamming her arm up and drawing water from the grass to punch into her. Hama flew back across the clearing, tumbling on the landing but rising fast, bending the water around and back at Katara, violent and swift.

Two master waterbenders in a Fire Nation forest under a full moon.

The water turned to shards of ice, blocked by a sudden watery shield from the air; tentacles grew suddenly, swinging around with icy spikes on the ends. Katara ducked and rolled, twisting the tentacles to do her bidding, sending them violently hurtling towards Hama.

“Katara!” Sokka’s voice was closer than Aang’s had been: they were nearing fast.

“The Fire Nation are monsters!” Hama cried as sent a wave towards her opponent.

Katara stood her ground, slamming her hands together and parting the water, before drawing it back behind her in two mammoth towers. She sent one crashing down on Hama, only for her to take control of it, and brought the other in front of her, freezing it over and shooting discs of ice towards the old woman.

“We have the power to take them down from the inside,” Hama continued. “Make them pay! Make them _suffer_ —” _She wanted to see Fire Lord Ozai suffer—_

“The Fire Nation will fall,” Katara said, raising her ice block at the last second to take the blast from Hama’s next attack, “but not to you. Not like this.”

“You are a bloodbender, Katara!”

“I am,” she agreed. “But I’m a better one than you.”

Hama’s laugh echoed around the fight and Katara saw her friends appear in the clearing, panicked and out of breath.

“I have been training for decades,” Hama scolded. “I _invented_ this technique.” Water splashed into the water-logged grass on both sides as the stared at each other. “You are a little girl who succeeded once.”

Katara felt like she was burning from the inside out. Was this what it was like for firebenders? “Try me, Hama.”

Hama’s eyes narrowed.

“Yeah!” Sokka said. “It’s three against one, lady!”

Hama laughed, a mean cackle – clearly, Sokka had no comprehension of _bloodbending._ But, to be fair, neither did Katara until ten minutes ago.

“More like _one against one,_ ” Hama responded, her arms rising in a sudden jerk upwards, fingers crooked and bent. Katara watched in horror as Sokka and Aang turned towards each other, panicking and yelling as Sokka’s arm moved in stiff jerks to pull his machete from his back. Hama made him hold it out, pointed at Aang, and warned, “Join me, Katara. You and I could _rule_ this nation.”

Katara scoffed. “You think too highly of yourself.”

“Have it your way.”

It all happened in a second. Sokka and Aang screaming as they shot towards each other, the machete pointed at Aang’s chest; Katara grabbing hold of them and wrenching them apart; twisting, turning and drawing water from the ground and freezing them to two separate trees; then shooting a hand out towards Hama, locating her chi paths, the water, the blood, and squeezing.

She froze. Katara reached out with the other hand, too.

“K-Katara,” Hama wheezed.

“You abducted people from that village,” Katara said, breathing heavily under the stress of holding Hama down. “You stole them every full moon for _years_ and hid them underground. _You_ are a monster, Hama.”

“T-take a…a l-l-look at your…self.”

Katara held her still. It felt good. It felt bad. It felt incredibly wrong but like nothing she’d ever felt before. It felt like a spit in the face of Tui and La, but like it was made for Katara, made as a power she could wield.

She lowered Hama onto her knees. Somewhere behind her, Aang and Sokka were calling her name, protesting, trying to bring her back, but this… bloodbending, it was the most vivid thing she’d felt in so long. She couldn’t bring herself to care if Tui or La or even Yue had problems with it.

Katara twitched her fingers and Hama’s breathing cut off. She choked, frozen, eyes bugging out as she realised what was happening, what Katara was doing. Hama wheezed and gasped and her face began turning blue in the moonlight when a new voice cried, “Katara! You’re okay!”

Toph ran into the clearing, followed by a large crowd of people in ragged, dirty clothes. _The people under the mountain,_ she thought, and twitched her fingers once more. Hama drew in a sharp, sudden breath as Katara allowed her to breathe again.

“What’s going on?” Toph asked.

“Nothing,” Katara decided after a beat, relinquishing her grip on Hama. The old woman collapsed into the mud, choking and wheezing, and the villagers surrounded her with chains and cuffs.

Katara dropped the water that froze Sokka and Aang to the trees and lowered herself to the ground, too.

She did not feel like crying. She did not feel like regretting. She was a bloodbender now. Wasn’t absolutely anything possible?

iii

Azula had given Ty Lee permission to use the gymnasium in the palace whenever she pleased. It was a very thoughtful gift; letting Ty Lee practice in a wide-open space just off the training room. Weights sat lined against the walls, ropes dangling from the ceiling. Ty Lee had instructed the servants on how to set up the trapeze and the wires she could climb up, to tangle and spin in the air.

She was worried. _Very_ worried.

She wound her leg around a rope and dangled upside down, twirling. Then she caught the rope in her hands, flipped right side up and swung over to the next rope, leaping through the air and feeling the rush beneath her.

She’d always been excellent in the air. She’d always felt free as she performed, as if she were flying.

Ty Lee grabbed onto the next rope and caught it, swinging her body around in a smooth arc before aiming up towards the nearest trapeze bar.

Down below, a door opened.

“Lady Ty Lee,” a servant said, as Ty Lee swung over to the bar. She hung on tight, swinging back and forth and looping over with her momentum. “As requested, we have searched the palace top to bottom. Prince Zuko has not been located.”

She leapt to the next bar. “You’ve checked Mai’s house?”

“Yes, Lady Mai’s residence has been scoured. As one of the last people to see the prince, Fire Lord Ozai has requested your presence in his throne room.”

Ty Lee’s hands slipped from the bar too soon as she launched herself towards the next one. Still, she made it work and twisted in the air, catching the bar across the tops of her ankles. The Fire Lord had the darkest, meanest aura of anyone she had ever met. He made her skin crawl and she _knew_ he regarded her as a silly little girl; just one of Azula’s school friends who never amounted to anything.

She hadn’t seen him once since Ba Sing Se. She didn’t even know if he _knew_ she helped capture the Earth Kingdom capital.

Zuko had not been seen since he entered the palace the night before after their return from Ember Island. That was almost twenty-four hours ago. He’d missed a war meeting and a fitting session; his head attendant, Masado, had already been banished from the Caldera for his ineptitude at keeping an eye on his master.

Ty Lee flipped upwards and swung to the next bar. She was very worried, indeed.

iv

The Blue Spirit was three nights from the Caldera, in a small town called Wai-So. It was situated on the southern coast of the main Fire Nation island, and had some of the higher crime rates in the empire. The Blue Spirit’s opinion was that it was a lot like the slum on the outskirts of the Caldera; there was a distinct lack of education and government help in this town, and the governor had raised taxes so high to fund the Fire Navy that citizens struggled to get by.

The Blue Spirit had been raised to believe that all Fire Nation citizens believed in the war and stood behind the cause. He wondered now if they were just so bled dry and suffocated that there was no way their voices would be heard if they said otherwise.

He kicked off one wall in an alley to swing up to the rooftop on the other side, leaving several bodies broken and sliced below him. They had been hassling several small children, shaking them down for the copper pieces the kids had likely stolen from somewhere else. When The Blue Spirit showed up, the children had scattered.

He knew it was reckless to wear the mask now he’d left the Caldera. It made for an easy connecting of the dots: The Blue Spirit was in the Earth Kingdom when Zuko was; The Blue Spirit relocated to the Caldera a mere week after the prince returned; The Blue Spirit was fighting his way through Fire Nation towns right as Zuko left. If anyone wanted to follow him, The Blue Spirit was making enough noise for a visible path.

But the man behind the mask couldn’t help himself. What else was there to do? All he had was this, was the night time and the blades and the feeling of helping _someone,_ even if he wasn’t helping everyone. He’d made the wrong choice in Ba Sing Se and now that weighed on his guilty conscience, a decision he needed to repent for. He needed to balance out the pain he’d caused and fix the mistakes he’d made.

That started with The Blue Spirit, and would hopefully end with teaching the Avatar firebending and taking down his father once and for all. The Avatar _had_ to be alive; he’d seen the vial of spirit water up close. He knew miracles had happened with less.

So The Blue Spirit was tracing the Avatar’s likeliest path in reverse. He’d spent months tracking the group, but didn’t feel as if their direction would bounce around the world as much as it once had. Time was running low; the Avatar and his friends would need to be in the Fire Nation by the date of the eclipse, less than two weeks away, and security would be ramped up the week of. It would be easier if they and that bison they travelled on could get in close and hide early; sneak their way in close.

The Blue Spirit had started with the quiet towns he thought they might hide out in, and if that failed, would take a ship and see if they were patrolling the waters in disguise. If all else failed, he’d simply return to the Caldera for the invasion, lead them to the bunkers where his father would be hiding; the palace empty and deserted, and help them defeat his father there.

 _Kill_ his father, even – because that’s what was coming to him.

The Blue Spirit darted across the rooftops and scared a few more people milling about in the night. He thought that maybe the Avatar or his friends might get involved in stopping a crime or two – their consciences were probably worse than his, making them jump into every case of wrongdoing they came across. The town was big enough but quiet enough that they wouldn’t make a fuss as new, unfamiliar faces.

He leapt the gap between two houses and continued on his way.

Part of him felt that maybe he should’ve left a note.

_Azula, get bent._

_Mai, I’m sorry._

_Ty Lee, come with me._

_Father, I’ll be back to pick up your corpse._

He didn’t know what good that could’ve done, but would it have been better than complete silence? He thought absently of the dead body he’d left in the brush behind the prison. He ploughed on, flipping over an alley and then climbing the trellis to a higher area of rooftops.

The Blue Spirit perched on the edge of the overhang for a quick breather. The town was swathed in darkness, only a few lights glowing in the streets. It sat at the bottom of a valley, hills looming on all sides as paths cut their way into the countryside. He’d stopped being able to see the dormant volcano the Caldera sat in a day before; it had vanished past the horizon.

He jerked his head up at a sudden shout.

The Blue Spirit pushed to his feet and surveyed the area, then—there, down the street, two figures running through the night.

He passed across the rooftops, trying to draw in close, leaping down to lower roofs and passing as a blur in the dark until he could get a better sight of the trouble.

“Stop! Come back with my money!”

It was a male voice, the chaser, calling after whatever vagrant had stolen from him. The thief cackled, a feminine voice: “Not likely!”

He followed them as they curved around a street corner; a young girl with a bag of money running in the night from the grown man that chased her. She was a speedy little thing, ducking around corners and vanishing into shadows before the man could catch up.

The Blue Spirit saw the way she tipped to the side, about to run into a side street, and jumped down before her, landing with his swords drawn. The girl skidded to a halt as soon as he hit the ground, and the chaser slowed behind her, breathing heavy.

The girl didn’t look at either of them, just held the bag close to her chest. The man behind the mask felt a vague tinge of recognition, but it wasn’t much. He twirled the dao swords in his hands, and the man on the other side stepped forward.

“Nowhere to run, girlie.” He set his hands on fire and the narrow passage glowed red and hot. “Give me the coin back and we won’t have a problem.”

“I won this fair and square,” the girl replied, indignance in her tone. “If you don’t like losing, you should hustle your players better.”

“You insolent little brat,” the man growled, his hands burning brighter.

The Blue Spirit watched, a wall to be broken through. The girl seemed to be measuring them out, which would be easier to head towards.

“You’re cornered, bitch. Don’t you know who _that_ is?” he continued, sending one hand pointed past her.

She paused, considering. She did not look at either of them. “No,” she decided. “I haven’t had the pleasure.”

“That’s _The Blue Spirit._ ”

Her head shot up with recognition.

“Yeah, you better be afraid. I heard he chops up thieves and leaves their pieces out for the dogs.”

The Blue Spirit remained still, but behind the mask he pulled a face. _That’s_ what the rumours were saying? _Really?_

Still, he felt that tinge of familiarity with this girl. Where did he know her from? She was dressed in a red tunic and trousers; was short with dark hair pulled back in some kind of twist he didn’t recognise. As the fire lit up her face, he saw eyes that were cloudy and grey, completely devoid of colour. _Blind,_ he thought, and then tried to fit that to someone he knew. Did he know anyone blind? Did he know anyone this _short?_

“If that’s your line for scary,” the girl said, all bravado, “you’d better be a lot more afraid of me.” The man scoffed, and the corner of the girl’s lips quirked upwards. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She slammed her foot down, hard, and a pillar of rock burst out of the stonework, slamming up into the chin of the man and sending him flying across the street. The Blue Spirit stepped back. _Earthbender._

_In the Fire Nation._

He lowered his swords. _The Avatar’s teacher._ He had never formally met her out in the desert as they all faced Azula at once. But she’d been there, in the periphery; short and quick-witted, a master earthbender barely even the Avatar’s age.

The Blue Spirit stepped back further.

“Fraidy cat, huh?” the earthbender crowed. He watched her feet carefully, then ducked to the side when she moved, a sudden attack coming for him just like she’d come for the man. He couldn’t hurt her, couldn’t attack her, not when he wanted to get on their good side.

Instead, he leapt to the side of the passage and then jumped over her head, brandishing his swords towards the man who charged back towards them, all burning fury and fire. The Blue Spirit took him on, slashing and darting, his swords glinting in the firelight until he was down and coughing blood.

The earthbender hadn’t left. He’d half expected her to, to take the chance and run.

She was—watching. But not looking. Waiting, maybe, to see who he was.

When he stepped towards her, though, she stepped back.

Her head was tilted to the side as if she was listening to something The Blue Spirit couldn’t possibly hear. She held the bag of money tight to her chest. They were at a stalemate without even a word passed between them.

Then golden fire lit up the passage and she yelped. The Blue Spirit moved on instinct, darting between the girl and the fire, cutting it off with his blades and bending it right back towards the man who’d thrust out his fist and sent a fireball in her direction.

Fire licked the walls of the passage. When he turned around, the girl was gone.

v

Azula’s forehead pressed against the warm marble floor of the throne room. She grated internally, she should be sitting up there by her father’s side, not down here like the peasantry. But Zuko had been gone for three days now. He’d simply vanished after their trip to Ember Island. Had eaten dinner in the hall, according to his attendants, and then retired to his room early.

Then, gone.

Azula had half a mind to clap whoever assassinated him on the back – but if she were going to kill a prince, she would at least hang the body in the town square for the masses to find in the morning.

No, he was probably gone off his own accord. He’d spent so long away from home with the treacherous leach known as Uncle Iroh, that his mind was warped, twisted away from the Fire Nation ideals.

Her father echoed her sentiments exactly: “Prince Zuko has denied his crown for the last time. His leaving is the act of a traitorous coward; he could not even _face me_ and inform me of his departure.”

The throne room was empty bar the two of them. The fires burned so her father was little more than a shadow on his stage. Azula raised her head to stare up at him, at the place she would one day sit. When she blinked, the flames danced in yellow blurs behind her eyelids.

“And you _let him_ ,” Ozai accused. Azula sat bolt upright.

“What? No—”

“Do not dare interrupt me,” Ozai said over her protests. “You spent days with him on Ember Island – what thoughts did you let seep into his head? He had clearly been led astray by my treasonous brother. Your job, daughter, was to aid his return back into the fold – to make him feel _welcome._ To make him recognise his _duty._ It has been three years since he last wore a crown, did you think he would remember how to stand under its weight?!”

“Father,” Azula cut in. “I had no idea—”

“Then that is _your failing_ ,” Ozai said. “Ursa bore me two children, and both have turned out to be useless.”

“Father—”

“Zuko is weak and you are a waste of—”

“How dare you!” Azula cried. “I have done nothing but follow your orders! I have done nothing but learn how to be Fire Lord one day. It is _Zuko_ who failed you! He has been turned by Uncle to be a liar and a coward, and his time spent away has changed him for the _worse._ What did you think? That he would assimilate into the lower ring of Ba Sing Se and leave still able to act _princely?_ No, he has become peasantry, Father. He sank himself to the level of the insignificant poor of the Earth Kingdom. It is no surprise he couldn’t handle the life of the palace afterwards. That is not _my fault_. And you do not get to treat me as if it were! As if I were _Zuko._ ”

There was silence as Azula gulped in heavy breaths.

Then Ozai said, low and clear, “I can treat you however I desire. You speak to me with such insolence again and I will brandish you with a scar that matches your wretched brother’s, do you understand me?”

Azula lowered her forehead to the ground again. “Yes, Father.”

“Leave my sights.”

She stood, bowed and left, her jaw clenched so hard she thought her teeth might shatter. Her control over Zuko had waned since his time away; yes, she still knew how to direct him like the tides leading a ship to shore, but he had become someone almost unrecognisable. Still, perhaps father was right about her failure – she should’ve seen it on Ember Island. She should’ve stopped and pondered the way he stared at the sky on the night of the bonfire, the way he sounded so resigned when he talked of Father’s treatment of him.

Azula thought Zuko was weak, and Zuko thought Ozai was a monster. Ozai had loved Ursa, and Ursa had loved only her first born, not her second.

Azula marched down the halls, making servants scatter into the shadowy corners out of her sight. She had half a mind to cry, but crying was for weaker people than her. Princesses could not cry. So she just held her jaw tight, her skin practically steaming with rage, as she stormed through the halls of the palace.

She ended up in the gymnasium, attached to the training room with a wide archway, which led outside to the courtyard. As she expected, Ty Lee was flipping between trapeze beams and Mai was lounging around on the mats, tossing a knife in the air and catching it between her fingers.

“What are you doing?” she seethed. “Lazing around when there’s work to be done? Absolutely ridiculous, the both of you. You let Zuko leave and now you’re doing absolutely nothing to find him.”

Mai raised a pointed eyebrow as Ty Lee swung down to a rope and slid down to land on the ground, her arms raised above her head in a finishing pose.

“Sorry, Azula?”

“You _should_ be sorry,” Azula snapped back. “Zuko was in a fragile place within the palace and neither of you could convince him to stay.”

“I don’t recall that being my job,” Mai said absently, her eyes still on the knife.

“Not your job?! Your job, as I recall, was to throw your _feminine wiles_ around and catch yourself a prince. Don’t act as if your father didn’t give you that task!” Mai shot a glare towards her and then to Ty Lee, who’d gossiped and let the secret out. Ty Lee ducked her head, sheepish, and Azula located her next target. “And _you_ —flirting and drawing him away from Mai, spending all that time with him and not once realising that he wasn’t ready to belong?”

“Azula,” Mai said, “this isn’t our fault.”

“Well, it’s not mine!” Azula cried. “So it must be yours! You were supposed to welcome him back to the fold! Help him recognise his duty as prince! You are failures, the both of you! Insolent and wretched and _useless!_ ”

Azula heaved from her outburst and brushed the hair that had fallen from her top knot out of her face.

“How you did not see that he was no longer on our side is beyond me,” she said, before swivelling and turning from the room. Before the doors closed behind her, she heard Ty Lee’s sudden burst into tears and Mai’s, “What an asshole,” and squeezed her fists tight.

_You’re being a bitch. You’re a monstrous child. What an asshole._

Yes, Zuko. Yes, Mother. Yes, Mai.

_But who made me this way? Who formed my bones and brushed back my hair and placed a golden flame on my head, calling me royalty? Who showed me how to burn and destroy and raze?_

Before Azula even realised where she was headed, she was in her father’s wing of the palace, just adjacent to hers and Zuko’s. Two guards stood at the magnificent doors at the end of the hall, watching her silently as she marched down the carpeted marble. She turned off before she reached there, though, heading through a more modest, but still grandiose set of doors.

Her mother’s room.

What had once been her mother’s room, rather.

It had been emptied and abandoned six years before when she had vanished the same night Fire Lord Azulon died in his sleep. _Likely story,_ Azula had always thought. She barged through the room, everything covered with a thin layer of dust, until she ended up in the en suite.

Azula was quick to lean over the toilet and vomit; spewing all the hatred and anger and burning fire down the bowl.

Where did her father get off treating her like _Zuko?_

She was the prodigy child, the Crowned Princess, the hope for this nation and the eventual Fire Lord who would reign over her home country and the entire world. And he threatened to brand her like the failed older sibling who had never learned respect?

She sat back on her hunches, flushed the toilet and then washed her mouth out in the sink. Azula stared at her reflection in the mirror; her hair a mess and her eyes dulled but burning luminous.

Carefully, Azula removed her crown and pulled the ribbon from her hair. It flopped down around her shoulders, long and dark and soft. She meticulously tied it back up again, slipping the bar back through the crown to keep it in place.

One day, she would be Fire Lord. She would rule this kingdom. She would rule this _world._ There was no mother, no brother, no awful friend who would tear her down or send her to her knees ever again.

She was done bowing. She was done apologising for other people’s mistakes. She was done lying for Zuko.

Azula crouched and opened the cabinets under the sink. Long forgotten and untouched, but she had explored everywhere in her youth, she had hidden in her father’s bedroom and rifled through her mother’s things. There was a false back to this cabinet in particular, and behind it sat a collection of herbs and powders Azula didn’t know. They were all named though, in loopy cursive handwriting.

She shook a vile of yellow powder and smiled to herself.

Her mother had once killed a Fire Lord and escaped into the night to live a life of animosity.

Azula returned the vial.

Perhaps she’d do one better. She had always been superior to Fire Lady Ursa, even as a young child.

Azula would become Fire Lord. Azula would hold this nation in a vice grip. Azula would have Zuko hanged for his crimes, and she would laugh on the execution day.

**A PROCLAMATION FROM THE PALACE OF THE FIRE LORD**

_Long may he reign._

On the day of the sixth year, the fifth month and the first day of our Lord, Ozai, his highness Prince Zuko disappeared from the palace grounds and has yet to be seen again in three days of search.

His disappearance is of great tragedy to the royal family and currently believed to be the work of tyrannical zealots who stand against the prosperity that the Fire Lord continues to spread across the world. However, it is possible that the aggrieved comrades of the now-dead Avatar may be to blame, or Fire Nation dissenters, turning against their kind.

In response, there will be full searches of all homes and establishments in the Caldera, as well as a reward for any who can supply substantial information that leads to the rescue and return of our beloved prince.

A candle-lit vigil shall be held across the Fire Nation tomorrow eve, on the fifth of this month.

_May the Fire Lord’s reign burn bright and lasting._

> **Iroh said:**
> 
> You must never give in to despair. Allow yourself to slip down that road and you surrender to your lowest instincts. In the darkest times, hope is something you give yourself. That is the meaning of inner strength.

vi

Toph hid in the shadows, sure that the man with the swords – the one that conartist of a street vendor had called _The Blue Spirit_ would hear her if she moved. She held her money close to her chest and pressed her lips together tight, terrified he might hear.

His heartbeat had been like a jackrabbit when he landed in the alley. A lot of running, maybe. Fear, more likely. But what did a vigilante with two swords have to be afraid of?

Toph hadn’t known who he was. She could only recognise a few people by heartbeat alone, knowing their weight and the way they held themselves. Aang was light on his feet. Sokka was always listing to the left when he walked. Katara’s movements were like brief, lilting dances.

But _The Blue Spirit?_ Aang had told her a story about him. About the Fire Nation Prince behind the mask, too.

What was Zuko doing so far away from the palace? Or maybe it wasn’t him, maybe this was a copycat vigilante who had—what, decided to side with the little _earthbending_ girl who’d stolen a man’s money?

Oh, Toph hated this. Toph really, really hated this.

But she had to stay quiet, had to stay out of sight.

She could feel his footsteps as he walked back up the alley. The man who’d chased her was maybe still alive, but it was hard to tell at this distance, hard to read the heartbeat when it was so incredibly slow.

The Blue Spirit walked cautiously, like he knew who he was dealing with – like he knew that she could grab him and suck him down into the ground at any moment. Which—she could. And maybe he _did_ know that. They’d only been in the same place once, but maybe he’d learned a lot anyway, maybe he’d watched enough to know who he was dealing with.

Toph shut her eyes. She’d met Zuko’s uncle once; she’d knocked him down and he’d made her tea and helped her understand that sometimes people helped each other not because they thought the other person was weak, but because they _cared._ He’d talked about his nephew like he was the sun and the stars.

She just wished she could be sure about that, now.

Toph felt along the wall; she’d rammed herself into a tiny alcove, hoping The Blue Spirit would just jump back up onto the roof and run away. There was nowhere to go.

He turned the corner and stopped. She stilled.

The Blue Spirit sheathed his swords, the sound of the blades sliding together echoing down the passage. He then gently stretched out a hand.

He stopped.

His heartbeat was erratic, leaping and jumping around. Maybe he was always like that, nervous and scared and twitchy. Would a copycat Blue Spirit hold out his hand? Would a copycat Blue Spirit sheath his swords?

Toph said, “Go away! I don’t want to hurt you!” The Blue Spirit didn’t respond. Toph gripped her money bag tighter. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I know you’ve seen the wanted posters and you just want your bounty, but I _didn’t do anything wrong._ ”

Still no response. Toph growled and kicked her foot at the ground. She didn’t bend but The Blue Spirit jumped back like she had, like she’d been planning to. Toph froze again. The Blue Spirit froze again, hand still reaching towards her.

“Who are you?” Toph asked.

“I want to help,” The Blue Spirit replied. His voice was soft, raspy.

Toph sniffed. “That’s not an answer.”

There was a faint yelling, and Toph could feel a smattering of footsteps running down a road not too far away. The man she’d hustled had backup – he’d sent away for it, and apparently they’d finally caught up.

The Blue Spirit tensed like he’d heard them too, and said, “We have to hide.”

“I can hide by myself,” Toph responded.

“Let me help you.”

They didn’t move. The yelling drew closer.

“Please.” The Blue Spirit stepped forward. “Please.”

When Toph nodded, barely, just an inch, they moved to the rooftops, The Blue Spirit leaping up first and catching the bag of money Toph reluctantly threw up to him. Only then did she have her arms free to rocket herself upwards and return the stone to the ground afterwards.

The Blue Spirit immediately passed her back the bag and they darted along the shadows. From the rooftop, the ground was harder to get a read on.

“Have they spotted us?” she asked as The Blue Spirit led her along the rooftops. He was avoiding jumping between houses as much as possible, but did find a spot to climb up, and tapped the wall for her to go up first. She pressed the money bag into his arms again and he followed up behind, quiet and unanswering.

Only when they reached this higher roof; the ground a distance tree root, spreading out in all directions, but vague and fuzzy, did he say, “They haven’t spotted us.”

He crouched on the edge of the roof, and then when he was satisfied, settled back, the money bag sat by his side. Toph was hesitant, but joined him, her feet pressed firmly against the terracotta of the roof tiles. She was tempted to fling her legs over the edge, but then she’d be blind and in the air, the wind whipping about her face as if she were on Appa’s back and flying.

She didn’t like feeling blind.

They stayed quiet for a minute, and she assumed he was watching for the people chasing her. But she needed to know.

“Zuko?”

The Blue Spirit tensed and she felt the vibrations of him turning minutely in her direction. _Ah. Zuko._

They didn’t speak though, and Toph nodded. “Thanks.”

“For what?” Zuko’s voice was quiet, rough.

“For not killing me. For helping.”

Zuko’s weight shifted. She could feel him turn away.

“Can I ask you a question?” There was silence. “I—I can’t see, man. Did you nod?”

“Oh. Yes. I did.”

“Cool.” Toph sniffed and leant back against the tiles. She couldn’t read the slight movements across terracotta, only the heavy, pointed ones. She said, “Why are you out here? Why aren’t you at home?”

Zuko was quiet for a minute, thinking maybe. She felt the vibration of his heel kicking at the bricks. “I don’t have a home.”

Toph frowned. “The palace isn’t—”

“I don’t have a home,” Zuko repeated, stern. Then he sighed. “Did you really steal that money?”

“ _No,_ ” she replied. “I earned it. I hustled the hustlers, and now I’m rich.”

“Money’s not everything.”

“No, but it _does_ buy you a lot of cool stuff.” A beat passed and then: “Why’d you run away from home?”

“I…” Zuko trailed off and then flopped back against the tiles. He didn’t finish his thought.

It was strange – he wasn’t trying to kill her. In fact, he’d _saved_ her. More than once in the span of a few minutes. His heartrate was like careening off a cliff, but she couldn’t read anything strange about it otherwise. Like deception.

“I’m a runaway,” Toph said when it became clear Zuko wasn’t going to talk. She wanted to befriend him, for some reason. She knew he’d done bad things and hunted her friends across the globe, but the badness wasn’t to the core. Toph could just tell. And Iroh had spoken of him so sincerely… “Several times over, actually. It’s ironic that my new wanted poster literally calls me _The Runaway._ They don’t know the half of it.” Zuko didn’t move, didn’t make out that he was listening. Toph drummed her fingers on the tiles and cautiously slipped one foot over the edge so it dangled. She felt untethered.

“I used to run away when I was little. I’ve always been blind so I’ve always been shielded from the world – but that’s not what I needed, you know? I needed freedom. I needed… agency. I learnt earthbending from the badgermoles that made tunnels under my town, and I just kept running away whenever I felt too… cramped, I guess. The last time I ran away was when I joined Aang. He needed an earthbending teacher and I needed some freedom.”

“Your parents didn’t let you go?”

Toph scoffed. “I’m twelve. That’s probably too young to be on a magical destiny adventure even if you _are_ the best earthbender in the world.”

Zuko turned his head towards her. “How do you know you’re the best earthbender in the world?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Is there a competition? Did you fight the best earthbenders from every town and beat them all? Did you face down all of the Dai Li?”

She quirked a smile. “I don’t need to face them all. I _know_ I’m the best.”

“Is there a sash for that?”

“A belt, actually.”

She heard his slight laugh, muffled by what must’ve been a mask. Then the silence stretched between them, but Toph found it comfortable, like the silences she shared with her friends.

Eventually, Zuko said, “I think my father’s abusive.”

Toph swallowed. “Oh?”

“I think Uncle’s been trying to tell me that for a long time. But I wouldn’t let him. Being back around him again though… after so long of being looked after by someone who—who _loved_ me, I realised. My father’s not a good man, uh—sorry, I don’t know your name.”

Toph started, blinking. “Toph. Beifong.”

Zuko straightened suddenly. “Like _the_ Beifong family? Of Gaoling?”

Toph hummed, smiling. “Something like that.”

“Agni,” he breathed. “Well, _Toph._ I can’t support the Fire Nation in this war. Not anymore. Not after everything I’ve seen and done… I think it’s time I joined the Avatar. Help fight for harmony and peace, restore the honour of my nation and fix everything we’ve broken.”

His heartbeat was still jackrabbiting away, like the mere thought of rebellion was exhilarating. She believed him.

“I can teach the Avatar firebending.”

Toph swallowed. “The Avatar’s dead.”

She clearly didn’t sound convincing, because Zuko flopped back down against the tiling again. “Your Water Tribe friend had magical spirit water,” he said. “The Avatar’s alive. I know I’ve done a lot of wrong, but I’m trying to make up for it. I can teach him firebending and I can _help._ I know I can.”

Toph was silent for a while and Zuko let her ponder his words. She thought about the things he’d done, the ceaseless hunt and the betrayal in the Catacombs. Everyone else in the group had a very visceral problem with him – but Toph just couldn’t relate. Her dislike of Prince Zuko was second hand – the worst she’d seen him at was after Azula shot lightning at Iroh, and Zuko screamed at them to leave.

Eventually, she said, “I need to get back to my friends.”

Zuko nodded and climbed to his feet. He helped her back down the trellis, not wanting to get unwanted attention if she earthbended her way down. When she was back on solid ground, she turned to him.

She took a breath.

“There’s a hill behind me, overlooking the town. On my right, an outcropping of rocks. Do you see it?”

“No,” Zuko replied. “But I know where you’re talking about.”

“Meet me there tomorrow morning.”

“What time?”

She hummed, shifting the bag of coins in her arms. “Closer to noon than to sunrise. I’m not a morning person.”

She thought she heard a smile in his voice when he said, “Alright.”

Toph turned to go but faltered when he said, “Thank you.”

She sniffed. “You betray us again and you know we won’t hesitate to put you in the ground.” It was a warning she felt she had to make at least once.

“I understand,” Zuko said.

“But I think you’re doing the right thing, turning against your father. I met your uncle once and he wouldn’t stop talking about you. He was proud of you, I think – proud of the person you would become, once you gave yourself the chance.”

Zuko’s heartbeat thumped so fast Toph could hear it in her ears.

Then she walked away.

vii

_The Avatar is dead,_ Toph had said the night before. But the truth was evident to the opposite: the bald little monk, not so bald, in Fire Nation garb – was that a _school uniform?_ – very much alive. Zuko _knew_ it.

He was also not particularly trusting right now – which was fair – and had spent the last ten minutes arguing with his two Water Tribe friends while his large flying bison drew ever closer until he was finally close enough to—

“Is Appa eating Zuko?” the Water Tribe boy asked.

“I don’t know, Sokka… I think he’s _licking_ him,” the Avatar replied. He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept in a long time.

Zuko was very suddenly _wet._ Bison slobber was disgusting. Still, as the bison grumbled some kind of happy purr – Zuko wasn’t sure what the noise was actually called – Zuko raised a reluctant hand to stroke its fur.

“I think Appa likes him,” the Avatar continued, a new, appreciative look on his face.

“Or he’s just playing with his food,” Katara retorted, arms crossed over her chest. She was Zuko’s biggest naysayer. They’d fought plenty of times and then in Ba Sing Se, had almost even had a moment of something akin to _friendship_ , and then he’d turned against her, siding with Azula.

She, like the Avatar and Toph had found Fire Nation clothing to wear and it pained him to think that maybe the red suited her. He remembered a time when he’d tied her to a tree and dangled her Water Tribe necklace in front of her face; her necklace was replaced with a red choker now instead. The only thing that might give her heritage away was her blue eyes, but even that could be played off as some distant Water Tribe grandparent who’d lived in the Earth Kingdom colonies.

The bison – Appa – grumbled happily again and nudged Zuko with his nose until he stroked him between the eyes.

“Yeah, yeah,” Zuko muttered. “Nice to see you again, too.”

The Avatar asked incredulously, “When have you and Appa _ever_ spent time together?”

Zuko shrugged, tamping down the smile on his face as Appa shut his eyes and nuzzled into his hand. He’d always liked animals, though after Azula’s tendency to throw rocks at turtleducks and their puma-fox who’d _mysteriously_ died in the court yard, Mom had decided that they wouldn’t have any more pets.

“In Ba Sing Se,” Zuko admitted. “I freed him from underneath Lake Lagoi.”

“You _what?_ ”

“No, he didn’t,” Katara said, waving a hand.

“He’s telling the truth,” Toph said. “You really did that?”

Zuko sighed with a nod. That was supposed to be his moment of change. He’d caught a fever soon after, like one good act was enough to disrupt his entire body from working properly. Uncle had said that he had reached his crossroads of destiny – he’d make choices that would turn him into a better man.

It seemed to Zuko that he was still standing there at the fork in the road, a thousand paths curling off ahead of him, as he chose the wrong ones again and again and had to double back.

“I know it’s hard to believe me,” he said, directing it more towards Appa than the group, “but I’m trying to do good. I’m trying to do better. And I think it’s my destiny to be here with you all. To teach the Avatar firebending and change the course of this war for good.”

He peeked over at them, at the way they exchanged glances with strange, unreadable expressions.

“Besides firebending,” the Water Tribe boy – Sokka – said, “what can you _really_ bring to the table?”

Zuko pulled a face. “A complete working knowledge of the Fire Nation, the Fire Lord, and its plans for the future of the war, including the day of the comet?”

Sokka paused. Then he looked to his friends. “He can bring quite a lot to the table, it seems.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Katara huffed. “He’s betrayed us before. He’ll just do it again.”

“I dunno,” Toph replied. “He seems sincere, and the things he said last night—” Katara glared, “—really makes it sound like he’s against the Fire Nation, the Fire Lord in particular, in this war.”

Zuko tried not to react to that statement. He’d never said the word _abusive_ out loud before, had barely even thought it until the day he left. He’d been crawling through a nearby town as The Blue Spirit when he’d seen a man slap his son around the face. It had sent him reeling, to think that he knew that what that man had done was _wrong,_ but when it had happened to him, it had just meant that he was weak, and cowardly, and deserving of it.

Zuko had barely slept at all since he left the Caldera, had spent his nights as The Blue Spirit, powered by some urge to keep fighting until he did as much good as he had done bad.

“I say we let him come with us,” Toph announced.

The others pulled faces and excused themselves for a team meeting, while Zuko stood beside Appa. Their little lemur came bounding along too, leaping up onto Appa’s nose to poke at Zuko’s arm and tug on his shirt sleeve. When Zuko raised a cautious hand to scratch him behind the ears, he allowed it for a grand total of three seconds before darting away, seemingly pleased with himself.

Maybe if it went wrong here, he could follow them until the comet, do his best on the day, and then retire somewhere distant and hidden, with a pet and a pond for turtleducks. He could vanish into the wilds, leave Azula to destroy his country and his world further, and remain a hermit for all time.

It was a dumb dream, a bad one, one that allowed Azula to reign even if Ozai was defeated.

He shook his head and patted Appa on the nose once more, before the group came back over. Katara was still glaring, but she was the only one.

“I think you _are_ destined to fight with us,” the Avatar said, “but you have to understand that trust and forgiveness are things that are earned.”

“I understand.”

The Avatar – _Aang_ – nodded. “Alright, then. Welcome to the team, I guess.”

“Nice to have you,” Sokka said, “now I’d like that insider information if you wouldn’t mind.”

Toph snorted and Katara huffed, flipping her hair and starting over to where their things were laid out a distance away. The meeting place Toph had pointed out was practically beside their encampment, she’d trusted his word that much.

“What do you want to know?” Zuko asked, and they all began over to their campsite, as Sokka started listing, “Oh, you know, sleep schedules, general routines, whatever haircare product Azula uses that keeps her hair that shiny—”

“ _Sokka,_ ” Aang sighed. “The plans for the day of the comet would be good.”

“Oh, and what they’re all planning to do, say, in eleven or so days?” Sokka added.

Zuko blinked, doing the math. They sat around a burnt out campfire, very clearly keeping a distance between him and them. Sokka started pulling maps and scrolls from his bag.

“Oh,” Zuko said. “You mean on the day of the eclipse?”

The group froze.

Aang asked, “You know about that?”

“Do I know about the eight minute eclipse during which all firebending will be left inert, at which point you and—probably not the Earth Kingdom armies, but likely other warriors and small soldier groups that you know—will invade the Caldera and defeat the Fire Lord?” Zuko nodded. “Yeah, I know about that.”

Aang fell backwards with a massive sigh as Katara growled, throwing a small bowl across the grass. Toph’s head fell into her hands and Sokka wailed, “What? You couldn’t _possibly_ know about all that?”

Zuko shrugged. “Someone straight up told my sister and her friends all about it while they were disguised as the Kyoshi Warriors in Ba Sing Se.”

Sokka’s face dropped, eyes bugged out. “We’re never going back there,” he said. “We’re _done_ with that city.”

“Agreed,” Aang replied, muffled through his hands.

Zuko really couldn’t tell how this was going to go.

viii

Her protests went unheard. Or, heard and ignored. Heard and taken under consideration but eventually tossed out the proverbial window. On the far side of the saddle, as they rode Appa through the night, was Zuko. _The_ Zuko. The Zuko who hunted them across the world. The Zuko who kidnapped Aang. The Zuko who burned Kyoshi. The Zuko who invaded the Southern Water Tribe. The Zuko who betrayed them in Ba Sing Se. _That_ Zuko.

Katara resolved not to sleep. She’d already hissed her threat at him when they had a brief moment alone before they took off – _If I think for even one second that you might hurt Aang, I will end you. Then and there._ He seemed appropriately rattled, but she couldn’t tell if he was just doing that for her sake.

Prince Zuko was not someone she trusted. Prince Zuko was not someone who was trust _worthy._

She was probably going to push him off Appa’s back the second he fell asleep.

It couldn’t take too long, he already looked dead to the world, with bags under his eyes and a slouch to his walk.

Toph had told them the whole story, from her ill-thought-out hustle to Zuko allegedly _saving her_ from someone who wanted her dead.

She felt like the _Zuko_ of the situation was overshadowing the _Aang_ of everything. He wasn’t the Avatar anymore – how were they supposed to win this battle without him? The war had raged a hundred years because there was no Avatar, and now there wasn’t one again – it ached to think about this going on for another century. And it confused her even more how chipper Aang had managed to be since discovering the truth. Sure, he looked like he hadn’t slept since the Fire Sage temple – but he didn’t seem anywhere near as upset as she thought he’d be.

He’d just had the greatest power in the world taken from him, for Tui’s sake! He’d just had his identity stripped bare, and yet… he seemed okay with it. Seemed looser, somehow.

They flew through the night and landed at the rendezvous point a little after sunrise. They hadn’t spotted the Fire Navy ships the Water Tribe had taken over, but _they_ had spotted Appa, and were sailing up to shore just as the group climbed down from Appa’s saddle. Sokka and Toph were the only two who’d slept during the night – the other three, well… Katara maintained she and Aang looked better than Zuko, despite Aang’s severe lack of sleep for weeks.

“So, that’s—”

“Captured, yeah,” Sokka said, finishing Zuko’s sentence. “We took it a few days after Ba Sing Se.”

Zuko hung back as the rest greeted the Water Tribe men, who’d collected a good few others in the past week and a half. Pipsqueak and The Duke were already on board, but now Haru, Teo, in his wheelchair and his inventor father peered over the side at them.

“Katara! Sokka!” Hakoda jogged down the landing ramp to sweep his children up in an embrace. Katara held him tightly, then pulled back. “What are you doing back here so soon? We’re lucky Bato spotted you flying overhead.”

“The invasion’s cancelled,” Sokka said.

“What?”

“The Fire Nation already know about it. They’ve got the whole day planned. They’ll be ready and waiting.”

Dad looked troubled, taking the news far better than anyone else had.

“And Aang?”

Katara shook her head. “He’s not the Avatar anymore. We think the Avatar Cycle was broken entirely.”

His sigh was heavy. He too understood how desperately the world had needed the Avatar. Then his eyes darted up, to where Zuko had sat down beside a slumped and napping Appa, Toph hanging nearby, and they clouded over, like the yearly Southern ice storms.

“Who in La is that?” he hissed.

Sokka rubbed the back of his neck as Katara glowered. “That’s Prince Zuko,” Sokka admitted.

“What the spirits are you—”

“It’s fine! I think,” Sokka said. “He’s okay. He’s the one who told us about the invasion—”

“And you _believed_ him?” Dad asked, grabbing both Katara and Sokka by the biceps and dragging them further away. “How do you know that he’s not lying to you? The eclipse is the _best_ and _only_ time to get to the Fire Lord before the comet. He could know that and just be playing with you, getting us to give up our one advantage.”

“I don’t know,” Sokka said.

“Toph said he wasn’t lying.” Katara was not happy about this fact.

“And she can tell that? For _sure?_ ”

Sokka nodded. “She says lying gives off a physical response. That she can feel it through the ground. I believe her. Besides, Zuko _told us_ about the invasion. How would he know about it if the Fire Nation didn’t know? If the Fire Lord wasn’t already aware?”

“Do you think we can use that to our advantage?” Dad questioned. “If we re-plan around _their_ plan?”

“I don’t know,” Sokka admitted. “You’d have to ask Zuko.”

Dad didn’t like that answer, which was something he and Katara had in common.

In the end, Chief Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe decided a formal interrogation of the Fire Nation’s Prince Zuko was necessary. Despite Toph, the human lie detector, and Aang’s boundless goodwill, Prince Zuko _had_ spent sixteen years within the Fire Nation (or amongst Fire Nation soldiers), so his loyalties were not clear.

And good information _was_ discovered – but there was a fatal flaw to the plan, it seemed, and that was giving Zuko his homecourt advantage.

They settled in the Commander’s office of the ship, a red room that was lit by glowing candles and lanterns. A large Fire Nation banner was draped across one wall. Zuko took his seat on the floor as instructed – so Toph could read his heartbeat and detect his lies – and then he waited patiently before the banner.

And it was _wrong_ , somehow. It was wrong that he was patient and wrong that he straightened his back and looked tall despite his pale skin and tired eyes. It was wrong because he was sat before the Fire Nation emblem and he did not look small and guilty and scared. He looked confident, and that changed the entire meeting.

Many people gathered inside to watch as Hakoda asked pointed questions and Zuko responded in kind.

 _Tell us why you left the Fire Nation._ “The Fire Nation has caused a century of suffering, and my father only plans to continue it. He will wipe out the rest of the world and rule it for himself.”

 _Did you tell anyone where you planned to go?_ “No specific locations. I told my uncle… he’s in prison. I told him I was going to ask to join the Avatar, but I didn’t say where.”

 _Why did you betray Aang and Katara in Ba Sing Se?_ “Because I wanted to go home. I’ve been gone for three years… almost four now, actually – I was banished at thirteen, and Azula promised me—she promised me that I could go home if I helped her take down the Avatar.”

It was that question, combined with the calm way he spoke, sat in front of his country’s insignia, a fucking _prince_ , even in an interrogation, that changed the game. Because his interrogator was a father.

Katara knew it was a dead end after that.

 _You were thirteen when you were banished?_ “Yes.”

 _What for?_ “For speaking out of turn.”

 _I’m sorry? Can you expand on that?_ “It was in a war meeting. I didn’t agree with a general’s strategy and said as much. I was rude and disrespectful, and so challenged to an Agni Kai. I was then banished, with the stipulation that I could only return if I captured the Avatar.”

 _But Aang didn’t come out of the iceberg until last year._ “I know.”

 _You’re sixteen now?_ “Almost seventeen.”

 _Tui and La. Can I ask what an Agni Kai is?_ “A duel between firebenders. Occasionally they’re to the death, but—”

 _You were challenged to a deathmatch at thirteen years old? Just for speaking out of turn?_ “I was disrespectful… I understand now that it was wrong of him to do that. That… I was a child. He burned a _child._ ”

There was silence after that. Katara’s eyes widened with understanding. The whole room sucked in a collective breath. Then Toph said, “Wait? You’ve got a burn? Is it cool-looking?”

Katara bit her tongue, but Zuko took a moment and exhaled slowly at Toph’s question and possible attempt at lightening the mood. The room somehow grew warmer.

“It’s not cool-looking,” Zuko said. “It’s on my face, actually.”

Toph wrinkled her nose up and frowned. “That sucks. Did anyone kick the general’s ass for doing that?”

Zuko pulled a face and then it cleared. “You misunderstood,” he said. “I was disrespectful in the presence of the Fire Lord. It was my father that challenged me to the Agni Kai.”

The interrogation was put on hold after that.

She watched her father pace the upper deck, swearing under his breath and cussing at Bato, who looked just as wound up but willing to sit still about it. Even Katara had to admit that she didn’t feel particularly hateful towards the prince at this exact moment.

She tried to imagine standing in the tundra opposite her father. Him wielding a blade and she with her bending. She tried to imagine fighting him, but she couldn’t. She could only picture herself falling to her knees and letting him run her through with the sword – she wouldn’t fight her own father. How could Zuko, at age thirteen no less, have been expected to?

Aang settled down beside her for a little while and sighed, saying, “Everything’s so messed up.”

“It is,” she agreed. “Are you holding up okay?”

“Me? Yeah, of course I am. I’m not the one who was challenged to a _deathmatch_ by my own father.”

Katara’s face twisted. “But what about all the Avatar stuff? Are you doing alright with that? You seem… strange.”

Aang shrugged. “I feel strange. I don’t feel whole anymore. It’s weird ‘cause I wanted nothing more than to _not_ be the Avatar… and now I’m not—”

“You want to be it again.”

“The world needed me,” he said, sighing into his hands. “And I failed them.”

“You didn’t.”

“I _did._ I think that’s the hardest part of all this. I don’t—I don’t mind getting to be normal. Guru Pathik said that to unlock the full power of the Avatar State, I had to disconnect myself from the people I love – that to care about the world like I should, I had to stop caring about individual people like I do.” Katara frowned and Aang shrugged again. “Now I get to care about myself, I guess. But it’s hard… it’s _really_ hard. The world needed me and I died. That’s my fault.”

“That’s _Azula’s,_ ” Katara corrected.

“I wish it was that simple. But this is the second time I’ve done this, Katara, and this time I don’t even get to make up for it. I don’t get to bring hope back. Azula—I—ended the Avatar, totally. Entirely. There’ll never be another one. What if this war never ends?”

“It will,” Katara said, though she wasn’t even sure herself anymore. “It has to.”

It wasn’t long before Sokka was calling them back inside. The interrogation was not an interrogation anymore, but a conversation, like her father couldn’t bring himself to interrogate and scare a boy who had been hurt by his father. Still, the insignia Zuko sat in front of gave him the air of a fire prince, relaying strategies and plans to his soldiers. It made Katara shiver to think about.

She also thought that for someone who barely planned at all and just seemed to hope everything would _turn up Zuko_ , he could actually think quite logically. It made her wonder if he just _chose_ not to in practice. If he had known that caring Aang’s unconscious body through a blizzard was a bad idea _logically,_ but he hadn’t had it in him to care.

_Do you think that the invasion plan could be altered to specifically move against the Fire Nation’s reaction to them?_

“You _could_ ,” Zuko allowed, slowly. “But I expect they will have already changed plans. I imagine that even if I had been abducted, rather than left off my own accord, my disappearance would’ve been taken as treason. They will assume I have revealed the invasion plan to you and will change it accordingly.” He drew his finger across the Fire Nation maps Sokka had collected. “It would be difficult to get up the road from the port, though that is the only way to reach the Caldera, and it would take longer than you’ll expect with the added reinforcements – but even if you flew over on Appa or with your—stick-wing-thing—”

“My glider,” Aang said. Teo’s father had built him a new one, and Aang sat with it now.

“Right. The citizens of the Caldera will be locked inside their houses, all members of nobility and royalty in the bunkers. Even if you went directly underground, I can’t imagine that they hadn’t already changed the plans. The bunkers would be empty.”

And on it went, a thousand questions and answers about the Fire Nation and their armour, their weapons, their strategies. Zuko had sat in on a few war meetings in his weeks since Ba Sing Se, and he revealed what he knew, a steady list of facts and figures that Sokka dutifully took down and then asked clarifying questions for.

It must’ve been far longer than an hour before they asked about the day of the comet.

“Well, I’d hope that the Avatar will have already defeated my father by that point,” Zuko said.

The group had come to an agreement that they wouldn’t tell Zuko about Aang’s missing bending or the fact that he couldn’t enter the Avatar State anymore. Without all four elements, it seemed unlikely that Aang could take on the Fire Lord and win.

“But if he doesn’t,” Zuko said before sighing and leaning back on his arms, “I’d say the Earth Kingdom is done for.”

“What?” Katara asked.

“My great grandfather, Fire Lord Sozin, harnessed the power of the comet to wipe out the Air Nomads.” He looked Aang in the eye. “Just about everything to do with your culture was erased from the history books, but we were taught that Sozin did it because he wanted to kill the Avatar and end the Avatar Cycle at the same time, so his biggest obstacle would be destroyed. Uncle told me though that he thought it was because the Air Nomads were the biggest threat.”

“What?” Aang cried, incredulous. “We’re _pacifists_. That’s the whole point!”

“Sure,” Zuko said with a shrug, “but _why_ are you pacifists?” He didn’t let Aang respond before saying, “It’s because airbending is the most dangerous kind of bending.”

Katara scoffed. What a load of bullmonkey. “Almost like you haven’t been on the receiving end of a Fire Nation raid,” she spat. The room immediately grew uneasy.

“I don’t think I need a raid to understand the danger of fire,” he immediately shot back, gesturing to his face. Katara swallowed her retort, the story behind the scar too fresh to argue with. “Look around this room. What is the quickest way to kill everyone in here?”

The entire office was silent. It had emptied out quite a bit since the interrogation, but Katara, her friends, her father and a few Water Tribe men still sat inside with Zuko. None of them liked this guessing game.

Toph eventually said, “I could bend the metal walls and crush everyone.”

Zuko considered this. “Wouldn’t be fast enough, and a few people might survive.”

Sokka looked around the room. “I guess you could lock the doors and burn us to death?”

“Burning to death takes longer than you might think.”

“A poisonous gas?” Dad suggested.

“Show me the poisonous gas that you have on you right now,” Zuko challenged. After a beat, when no one else could come up with ideas, Zuko said, “Aang could suck the air out of this room. We’d suffocate.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Katara said.

“Sure, _he_ wouldn’t. Because he was raised to be a pacifist. Because when it comes down to it, air may be the element of freedom, but it’s also the deadliest one. It’s the one we rely on the most, so the Air Nomads created a culture of—of peace, and meditation, and study; vegetarians who respect all life and wouldn’t even hurt a fly, so no one would be raised with the understanding of just how dangerous their powers are. So they wouldn’t use them on others.”

“Your uncle told you this?” Sokka asked.

“I paraphrased,” Zuko replied. “But I originally had a point. The comet. The first one wiped out the Air Nomads, so the Fire Nation could stand uncontested. The aim will be the same this time: take out the biggest threat. When it comes back around, my father will use the power to wipe out the Earth Kingdom entirely and win the war.”

Katara left soon after that.

By the end of the day the invasion was cancelled and the goal was now to defeat the Fire Lord before the comet came – or, at the latest, the day of. The Water Tribe men would spend the eclipse taking back a colony or a captured Earth Kingdom city. Aang would train – supposedly in firebending – and they’d rendezvous later on, when they had a more solid plan for the comet.

No one was happy leaving that day, but they had to.

After dinner, the ship set back out into open waters and Appa flew in the direction of the most southern Fire Nation island, so that they could make the journey to the Western Air Temple the day after. They flew for hours over open water, and the moon rose high above them, only a slither or two past full. Katara had napped during the afternoon, knowing she would remain awake all night, keeping watch over Zuko in case he had another change of heart when everyone was at their most vulnerable.

But it wasn’t long before Zuko fell asleep himself, apparently finally giving in to whatever he’d fought against for what must’ve been days. He slumped over on the opposite side of the saddle, eyes shut and arms crossed over his chest. At some point, after a day of talking strategy, Sokka had warmed up to Zuko a little, and hadn’t seemed particularly put out to be sat beside him. He’d even loudly announced, when it grew cold so high up during the night, that Zuko was like a personal furnace.

“Are you _naturally_ this warm _always?_ ” he’d questioned, even scooting _closer_ so he wouldn’t freeze.

Zuko had shrugged. “I guess so.” He didn’t seem to mind Sokka drawing close, but he’d had the audacity to seem _pleased_ when Toph did, too, under the guise of needing to be warm if she couldn’t see a damn thing up in the air.

Toph had fallen asleep curled into a ball by Zuko’s side.

It was a few hours later that Katara decided she no longer regretted not sleeping through the night, because that was when a fireball shot out of nowhere and Appa swerved suddenly to avoid it. Everyone was awake in an instant, grabbing onto the saddle for dear life as Aang yelled and directed him around the second fireball that whizzed past.

“What _is_ that?!” Sokka yelled, as Katara scrambled to the edge to stare down at the open ocean they were crossing.

“It’s a Fire Nation ship!” she shouted back. “We’ve been spotted.”

There was only one, but it was large, with more than one catapult lighting up on the top deck. Appa growled and went higher, to where the air was thinner, to try and escape their range. But the next fireball only narrowly missed them, and Aang had to airbend the fourth away using his new glider.

“What do we do?” Katara called.

“I don’t know!” Aang replied. “We get as far away as possible!”

But Appa was slow – he’d never been fast, but after two long nights of flying, he seemed to be struggling.

“Toph!” Sokka said. “It’s all rock underneath! If we direct you, can you knock them back?”

“I can give it a shot!”

Toph was hanging on for dear life though, and to get into the right position, Zuko had to loop and arm around her waist to hold her to the saddle, in case she went flying off. As the next fireball lit up and shot towards them, Sokka scrambled over and directed her. Toph managed to latch onto the rock with her bending, but the momentum was too fast for it to be stopped; she thrust her hand upwards and they all ducked down as it passed overhead.

“No!” she announced. “I can’t knock them ba— _AHH!”_

Katara’s knuckles went white around the edge of the saddle as Appa swerved sideways to avoid the next shot. She watched as Toph fell backwards, slipping from Zuko’s grip until he caught her by the wrist—but by then he was falling too, barely grabbing hold of the far side of the saddle and dangling as the flaming rock barely missed, singeing Appa’s fur.

“TOPH!” she screamed, as beside her Sokka yelled, grabbing onto Katara as well as the saddle.

Below them, now, Toph screamed. Whatever Zuko said was carried away by the wind as his fingers began slipping from the saddle.

What could she do to help? What the _hell_ could she do to help?

If they hit the ocean from this height, wouldn’t they die on impact?

It had only been a few seconds, and all Katara could think was that she needed Aang to be the Avatar again. She _needed_ the Avatar. What in Tui and La could she do—

Zuko’s fingers slipped and they went freefalling.

Katara went lurching forward, lurching down; Appa began righting himself and Katara was screaming, Sokka was screaming, Aang was yelling and Toph and Zuko were _falling._

She hit hard against the other side of the saddle and thrust her hands out, willing the ocean to catch them safely or—

Or—

It was not a full moon.

Katara didn’t care.

She stretched for the chi paths, for the energy and the existence of life, of matter, of water. She curled her fingers around the frail existence, the erratic heartbeat, the body and the bones and the _blood._

Katara struggled and screamed and slowly opened her eyes which she’d slammed shut in fear, finding herself staring down at Toph and Zuko, floating. _No, not floating._ Being held up like puppets on a string.

Slowly, gently, Katara pulled Zuko up, imagining the pull of his blood towards her, raising him through the air as Toph dangled from his hand.

It was not easy work, nor was it quick, but she pulled him high enough that she could see the fear in his wide eyes, the tense lines of his muscles. She held him rigid until he was up high enough that Sokka could pull Toph back into the saddle, and then Zuko after.

He collapsed into the bed of the saddle and Katara followed, sweating and breathing heavy, feeling as if she’d just built an entire castle of ice, or swallowed a city in water. She curled up, shaking, eyes never leaving Toph and Zuko, both safe on Appa’s back as Aang sped him away from the danger. Toph looked two steps away from crying but refusing to let herself, and Zuko was just flat on his back, his breathing hitching and unstable.

But Sokka had been right. He _was_ warm.

Eventually, Aang said the ship was out of sight and Katara let herself blink. Sokka rubbed circles against Toph’s back and Zuko slowly, slowly sat up. Then he looked down at her, like she was something alien, something unknown.

He cried _, “What the_ _ever-loving fuck was that?!”_ and Katara laughed so hysterically in response that she cried.

ix

It was as they landed in the early morning that they saw the meteor fall, and Aang led Appa towards the crash site, landing nearby and leaping to the ground. Sokka watched as Zuko, still shaking from what was probably a very harrowing experience of almost falling to his death and then having his body possessed jumped out after him. Katara and Toph too, all four of them bending to stop the forest fire that was spreading from the meteor.

Sokka just watched, useless.

Aang blew out fires and Zuko drew them to him, dissipating them into thin air. Toph smothered the flames with dirt and Katara whipped water across them from her waterskin. Sokka just flopped back onto Appa’s saddle and waited for the excitement to be over. And then they all slept.

It was late morning by the time they woke up again and investigated the meteor in the daylight. Sokka climbed atop the rock and watched the others bicker. He wasn’t sure where he stood with Zuko, but he had to respect that the guy had turned his back on his own family, his own country, and given them all the information they could possibly need to take them down.

 _First the Air Nomads, then the Earth Kingdom._ The Fire Lord wouldn’t even need to wait another hundred years to wipe out the Water Tribes after that. Fire notoriously melted ice.

The Northern Tribe had built massive walls and kept their noses out of the war for decades while the Southern Tribe was slaughtered and raided again and again. Originally, they killed all the babies. Sokka knew that as well as everyone else in his tribe. It was a hundred years ago and the Fire Nation came for the infants, the weeks-old. The newborns could be the next Avatar, reborn in the Southern Tribe. Kuruk, the last Water Tribe Avatar, had come from the North. It was well known that the next would come from the South, just as the Nomadic Avatars switched between the four temples in a circuit over hundreds of years.

Over the last century, though, the Fire Nation had raided the South Pole until they were just fifty people and a few igloos. They slaughtered the babies, then the warriors, and at last the waterbenders, taking them away and – according to Hama – keeping them locked in prisons of dry air, unable to bend and left to slowly die.

To Sokka, it was a no brainer to hate the Fire Nation, but for Zuko, who grew up in comfort inside it? He had to admit that maybe it would’ve been a tough call, turning his back on his home and everything he knew. So he was willing to hear the guy out when he talked, willing to thank him for his help, and even willing to sit beside him and take advantage of him being a walking-talking-personal-heater.

He peered down at him now, as he walked over.

“Are you sulking?” Zuko asked.

Sokka changed his mind. He hated the guy.

 _“What?_ No! I’m _brooding._ ”

“Why are you brooding on a meteor?”

Sokka crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his chin away. “When else am I going to get this chance?”

He glanced back to see Zuko roll his eyes. “Katara said we’re going into town.”

“What? Why?”

“Appa’s barrel roll last night meant half our supplies got dropped in the ocean. We need to stock up.”

 _Ah, yes._ Appa’s barrel roll that had sent Zuko and Toph freefalling. Sokka bet Toph or Zuko could’ve bent their way out of that situation had Katara and her freaky voodoo waterbending not stepped in.

Zuko narrowed his good eye. “What are you even brooding over?”

“Can’t a guy brood in _peace_ these days?”

“Not when it looks like _sulking_.”

“I’m not! Sulking!” Sokka huffed. “I’m just—” He glanced over to where the others were feeding Appa and packing their bags to head into the nearby town. Katara was bending water into her water skin and Toph was constructing a cave to hide Appa. Even _Aang_ was using airbending. Just to goof around, but still. “What the hell am I supposed to do to help defeat the Fire Lord?”

Zuko blinked. “What?”

“My job. It was… It was planning the invasion. And now the invasion’s off and we got attacked last night and literally the _only thing I could do_ was hang on for my life.”

Zuko scoffed. “If I had hung on better we wouldn’t have needed help.”

Sokka rolled his eyes. “And this morning! You know what I did to help stop the forest fire?”

“No?”

“Nothing! I did nothing! Because I’m _useless_.”

Zuko paused. “Because you’re a nonbender?”

“ _Exactly,_ ” Sokka said. He slipped down from the meteor and climbed out of the crater. “I can’t do the cool stuff everyone else does. I’m just the boomerang guy, you know? I have a boomerang. I have a map. I have cool hair.” He gestured to his wolf’s tail. The shaved in sides had grown since Ba Sing Se, and he’d made a point not to shave them off again. He’d fit in better in the Fire Nation, just like Aang.

They started over to the others, as Zuko asked, “You never got trained in anything?”

“Like what?”

“Like combat, I don’t know.”

Sokka shrugged. “All the men in my village left a few years ago – you met them on the boat. There was no one to train me at all.”

“What’s going on?” Katara asked, glancing between them distrustfully. Sokka understood her dislike of Zuko, but she hadn’t hesitated to freaking _bloodbend_ him from death – and not even on a full moon at that. So she couldn’t hate him _that much,_ right?

“Oh, just talking about how I’m the team’s weak link,” Sokka moaned mournfully, slapping the back of his hand to his forehead. “I’m just holding you all back.”

“Sokka,” Katara said, “you’re not the weak link.”

“Yeah,” Toph agreed. “Sure you’re a nonbender, but you can do all kinds of stuff the rest of us can’t.”

“Like what?” Sokka asked.

Toph hesitated. “Like read.”

“That doesn’t count.” He waved an arm vaguely. “You’re blind and the others can read… right? You guys can read? They nodded, Toph. They can all read.”

On their walk to town, Sokka kept up the complaining. He felt worthless, for some reason. He’d never had to feel that way before – he had been left in charge of the village, had been watching over Katara… but now he wasn’t at the South Pole and Katara was a master waterbender who protected _him._ Where did he fit?

Eventually, everyone grew tired of him, as he expected. They stocked up on food and wandered around the town, giving Appa a chance to rest before they made the rest of the trip over to the Western Air Temple.

Sokka figured he’d feel better in a few days after he had the chance to do something cool that the others couldn’t do. Like read a _map,_ maybe, but he secretly bet Zuko’s fancy palace upbringing meant he could read those too.

Then Zuko, who’d vanished some twenty minutes earlier, reappeared by his side.

“Come with me,” he said, making Sokka pull an uneasy face.

“Are you gonna take me somewhere quiet and kill me?”

“Yes,” Zuko replied. “Now come on, I want to show you something.”

Sokka yelled for the others to follow and they dutifully did, walking after the guy who had tried to kill them not three weeks before. It was a strange relationship. Sokka couldn’t explain it.

“Where are we going?” Sokka asked.

“Over there.” Zuko pointed to a low building with a window full of weapons.

“Are you going to kill me in a _weapon store?_ ”

“I think it’s called an armoury. But no, not this time.”

 _Not this time?_ Sokka mouthed back at Aang, who sent him a thumbs up.

Sokka had to admit, it was a cool store. There were large shields and quality crafted maces. He peered across the knives and spears and morningstars, until Zuko directed him towards the swords.

“ _Ooh._ ”

“It’s a Piandao original,” Zuko said about the shiny silver sword that had caught his attention. “Finest swordsman and sword crafter in the Fire Nation – probably the world.”

“It’s so _pretty._ ”

“It’s…” Zuko trailed off and Sokka glanced up, seeing the way his face twisted like he was unsure what to say. Sokka waited, continuing to browse the sword collection. “I was trained by Sifu Piandao as a kid.”

“You can swordfight _and_ firebend?” Sokka asked, incredulous. “That’s just greedy. Save some for the rest of us.”

Zuko almost smiled. “He lives nearby, actually. Just up the hill above this town. You’d have to bring him a gift, but… he could train you, Sokka.”

Sokka pulled a face. “ _Train_ me?”

“You could train with a master.”

 _Train with a master._ Katara appeared a moment later, a self-confessed eavesdropper, and begrudgingly admitted that it was a good idea. That Sokka be trained in combat properly, the way he might’ve been had his father and all the men not left to fight in the war mere months before he was due to begin.

So they took the meteor up the hill as a gift and stood outside a tall ornate door, a flower engraved across the two panels.

“Why’d you train in swordfighting as a kid?” Sokka asked, shaking his hands as he worked up the nerve to knock.

“They thought I was a nonbender.” Zuko shrugged.

Sokka’s eyes bugged out and he caught the sharp glances from Katara and Aang.

“I took longer than other kids to show signs of bending,” Zuko added. His face twisted like he was trying to smile. “For the record, the nonbenders I know are just as deadly, if not more so, than the master benders I’ve fought.” Sokka thought of that goth girl and her pink acrobat friend and nodded firmly.

“All of them?”

Zuko shrugged. “Even my mother was a master herbalist. Rumour has it that without even a little knowledge of how to fight, she could still take anyone down.” Sokka was sure there was more to that statement, but Zuko’s face emptied out and closed off. “Don’t knock on the door ‘til I’ve gone.”

“What?”

Zuko started off back down the hill, saying over his shoulder, “I imagine my own teacher would recognise me.” Toph volunteered to keep an eye on him—er, _foot_ on him, and ran off down the hill after Zuko. Then Sokka faced the door and took a deep breath.

“You’ve got this,” Katara said. “But, just so you know, even if you couldn’t swordfight, you have value to this team. To me.”

Aang crashed into his side in an enthusiastic hug. “You’re gonna do _so great,_ Sokka!”

They started down the hill after the others, leaving Sokka to his own devices at the door. He knocked loudly. He began his training.

x

He blamed his wife’s poor parenting and his brother’s misguided treason for the way his children turned out. One a coward, a failure, a waste of limbs and royal blood. The other insolent, narcissistic, unable to understand her place _._

He waved his hand in agreement, gave sparing compliments to the generals where he must. Airships were being mass produced. The day of the comet was planned down to the second. The new plans for the day of the eclipse, as a precaution against the child he should’ve killed, were cemented and agreed to.

 _Please,_ his wife had said. _Do not touch him, I beg of you. I will fix this. I will fix it all._

She had more uses that just good blood for children after all. He supposed she had to, considering the quality of the children she’d made.

Even his prodigy daughter believed herself more powerful than she was.

He rose, the fires lowered, the meeting adjourned.

Flanked by guards, he marched the halls of his palace all the way to his chambers where the tailor was due to meet him. The new ceremonial robes for his new title had to be altered; his new headpiece to be fitted correctly.

A new world ruled by him, ruled by _fire._

He sent off for his daughter, sent the tailor away and seated himself in the vast lounge of his chambers, sipping on the tea his head chef had brewed. He had never grown to the taste the way his older brother had.

“You asked to see me, Father?”

He sent the guards away, emptied out the room. Some orders required a forceful presence, a strict and unwavering hand. Others required quiet and subterfuge. At least his wife had understood that.

He gestured for his daughter to take the seat across from him, asked her if she’d like some tea.

Her hands were remarkably still for the panic in her eyes. She was right to be afraid of him, they all were. He was power incarnate, fire incarnate. He was the beginning of a new era, and even his own daughter would not follow him if she could not keep up.

He said, “I have a task for you.”

He said, “You will find your brother and you will kill him.”

She said, “Father?”

He said, “Do it quietly. Do not leave a body to be found.”

Her jaw was a rigid line. She was a few months from becoming fifteen. He would soon have to send out a delegation to find her a suitable husband, though he couldn’t imagine a scenario in which she wouldn’t bite their head off while they slept. She was brutal, filled with zealous fire and ambition. His grip on her was ironclad, though – he had instilled fear and obedience in his one half-good child as a measure to stop what happened to his father from happening to him.

And then the bedroom exploded.

He was thrown and the doors flew open, guards rushing in to face—

To face _what?_

Had the Avatar struck early? Had his insolent, treacherous son come back for more?

But no, it was a man, seven-foot-tall and half metal. His forehead was painted with a red eye. His daughter bled on the floor. His guards rushed forward.

The man sucked in a breath and the room went white with an explosion. His head rang with the aftermath, a sharp piercing noise as the rubble of his chambers shook—he shot fire forwards but could not be sure where it hit. What assassin was this? What man thought he could stand up to the Fire Lord—to the _Phoenix King?_

He pushed to his feet, but the world was a spinning plate, fracturing. He could only watch as the assassin turned to him, his face steely and cold. There were no more guards pouring into the room; the last wave was in pieces before him. The next would be here soon, but too late. Too late because he was going to get killed for what—for money? For power? Or was this his son’s attempt at taking power? His brother’s attempt at payback?

But he didn’t die.

Instead, his bleeding, brutal daughter climbed to her feet and attacked. Lightning crackled through the room, blue fire burned everything in her wake. She was vicious, violent, a force of pure spiteful hate. She reminded him, in his daze, of the dragons. Maybe she had been one in a past life.

More guards rushed into the room but they were too late. His daughter dealt with the assassin, snapping his neck with her own two hands. Afterwards, she slumped down beside him.

“Father?” she asked. “Are you okay?”

The guards were calling for medics and he was starting to feel more than just dazed; sharp pains burnt across his stomach and chest. He did not look down. He did not want to see.

He turned his head to look at his daughter instead. She looked more like him than she ever had his wife. It was his son that reminded him of her; his son that was soft like her, naïve like her. This girl, his daughter, had always been more like him.

He wheezed, “You will ascend on the day of the comet.”

“Father?”

“You will be crowned Fire Lord.”

He could taste blood in his mouth. The medics would arrive soon. He would not die before he took the world under his wing, he was sure of that. He had seen the visions himself, had heard the prophecies from the Fire Sages.

He raised a bloodied hand and placed it to his daughter’s cheek. Red smudged there.

“Azula,” he said. His one good child. His prodigy daughter. The heir to his nation. “Do not allow Zuko to take your title from you.”

“Yes, Father,” she said, and blood poured from her mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only one big chapter left!!!! then the epilogue!! very exciting very exciting
> 
> thank you for reading!! pretty please talk to me in the comments! what are you thinking about katara and bloodbending? or about the attempt on ozai's life??? how are we feeling about azula and ty lee and mai and their, uh, "friendship"?????


	4. into the inferno

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: this chapter is twenty thousand words long. it took me the longest to write not because it's the longest chapter, but because i just really didn't want to write the final battle lmao

> **Iroh said:**
> 
> Life happens wherever you are, whether you make it or not.

i

Azula sunk into the bathwater, the barest of cloth covering her body. The Fire Sage healers had been called to the palace to tend to the wounded; to tend to the Fire Lord and his daughter. Above her, fire arched like dragon tails, heating the room and dulling the pain in her ribs, in her arms. It was possible she would scar from this attack, but they were not like Zuko’s scars. The burn on his face was one of shame and cowardice. The scatter of angry red slices across her stomach and inside of her forearms, where the ceremonial armour of her everyday clothes didn’t reach as well, were marks of bravery and courage.

She had killed the assassin who attempted to bring down the Fire Lord.

She hummed softly, the pain ebbing away into the water.

The attempt on her father’s life had gone exactly as planned. Now she had his unwavering trust _and_ a seat at the table.

She would ascend on the day of the comet. She would become Fire Lord while he moved up to whatever position he deemed suitable for himself.

Of course, if he had died, that would’ve sufficed too. But her father being alive took the target off her back in terms of the Avatar – dead or not, Zuko’s eyes had wavered when she’d asked him if he thought it possible that he’d lived – and his friends. She did not truly think the Avatar could best her father in battle, but it didn’t matter.

A rebellious faction more focused on Fire Lord Ozai than the soon-to-be Fire Lord Azula was in her best interests. It gave her time to amass power and people, to plan for their downfall.

Her imported Dai Li guards reported no suspicion against Azula – she had been hurt in the attack, too. They had also reported the story as it spread like wildfire amongst the public: _brave Azula, courageous Azula, beautiful and strong, killed the assassin that broke into the palace and attempted to do away with the Fire Lord._

He was in a lot worse shape than her. His healing sessions in these pools lasted hours, and his hearing in one ear had been damaged by the explosions. Azula had stuffed wax in her ears before she even met with her father.

Whilst he recovered, she was entrusted with regency of the Fire Nation.

She smiled to herself. Long Feng had never been a player in her game, but her father was, and he was used to dominating. _Not for long,_ she chided. _This nation will be mine._

She rose from her pool at the end of the session, her attendants rushing to dry and clothe her. They tied her hair up and adorned her shoulders with armour. She had a meeting that afternoon while Father healed, but before she could attend, she searched for Ty Lee and Mai.

 _What an asshole,_ Mai’s voice said in her ear.

She picturing burning her dear friend alive and felt better afterwards.

“Oh, Ty Lee!” she called, slipping into her chambers. Though Mai and Ty Lee had perfectly suitable houses in the centre of the Caldera, Azula had secured them a place in the palace. If they were close by, under the seat of her spies, it would be easier to control their actions.

Ty Lee, sat at her vanity, looked over her shoulder.

“Azula!” she cried happily. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Much. Those Fire Sages really know what they’re doing.” She settled on the edge of Ty Lee’s bed. “Is Mai around?”

“Bathroom,” Ty Lee replied. “Have you heard? Everyone’s talking about the assassination attempt yesterday.”

“I’ve been informed,” Azula responded. “Apparently our would-be killer was rather famous in those circles. It would’ve cost a pretty penny to get him to make an attempt on the Fire Lord.”

“Do you know who paid for it yet?”

Azula shook her head. “That remains a mystery. My Dai Li agents are looking into it, of course, but with the only witness dead…” she trailed off, thinking of the satisfying _snap_ his neck had made. She’d felt the bones twist free.

It was a shame, of course, that such an effective assassin was now dead. He could’ve been good help in finding Zuko, but Azula had decided what was most important, and her father’s misguided trust in her had ranked first. She tipped her head back, remembering the conversation between her father and grandfather, the _Dad’s gonna kill you_ she whisper-sang to Zuko in the doorway of his bedroom, the way Fire Lord Azulon was dead the next morning and Fire Lady Ursa in the wind.

Perhaps she was her mother’s daughter after all.

Mai appeared from the bathroom, looking unsurprised by Azula’s presence.

“The hot water in your bathroom is abysmal,” she informed Ty Lee. Then she looked to Azula. “Does your plumbing rely on us being firebenders?”

Azula’s lips quirked upwards. “The guest wing doesn’t see as much use as you’d expect,” she said. “Tell a servant you want it fixed and it’ll be done.” She peered upwards, a thought occurring to her. “These rooms once housed ambassadors from other nations.”

“They did?” Ty Lee asked. “How can you tell?”

Azula turned her face to the windows. “A good view, high up – this was an Air Nomad’s room. Or at least, a space designed for one. It would’ve been decorated in yellows and oranges, too. That alcove, in the wall – it would’ve been for some Nomadic traditional decorations, I’m sure. The one downstairs that opens up to the pond was for a Water Tribe ambassador.” Azula shrugged, kicking one leg over the other. “They were all redecorated a long time ago.”

Mai took a seat on the ottoman at the foot of the bed.

“How’s your father?” she asked, though Azula doubted she cared.

“Healing. Once he’s better, we’ve been sent to find Zuko.”

Ty Lee frowned. “And bring him back?”

“No,” Azula sniffed. “The other thing.”

Ty Lee’s face shuttered. Mai looked away. They were too sentimental for their own good.

“I expect it’ll take a few weeks for Father to get better and then we’ll set off, perhaps after the eclipse.”

“How are you going to find him?” Ty Lee asked. “He vanished.”

“Not entirely,” Azula replied. “We’ll follow the trail The Blue Spirit left for us.”

Mai’s gaze was sharp. “You know Zuko’s The Blue Spirit?”

Azula smirked. “I didn’t until just now.” Mai’s eyes darted away. “I had a hunch, but thank you, Mai, for confirming it. Yes, it’s said he appeared in various towns heading south from the Caldera for a few days after Zuko’s disappearance. There haven’t been many reports since, so I imagine something must’ve happened to make him stop.”

“You think he was captured?” Ty Lee asked.

“Hm? No, I’m sure that would’ve come up. Perhaps he made a friend or two, or got injured on one of his vigilante sprees.” Azula stood. She had to get to the throne room for a conversation or two with her Dai Li agents. “My people will be working to track him down, then we will go where they send us and make sure he never comes back to the Fire Nation again.”

She moved to the door. Mai stopped her.

“You intend to kill him,” she said.

“The Fire Lord requested it of me,” Azula replied. “One does not disobey their Fire Lord.”

ii

Zuko woke up with the sun.

He carefully untangled his limbs from Toph’s – she’d taken to falling asleep close by for the natural warmth he exuded, and latching onto him like a koala-monkey during the night – and stepped away from where the group slept. Everything here was old and dusty, a hundred years gone by without existence between these walls. Zuko slipped a hand along the stonework as he made his way out from underneath the awning, to a spot he’d found where the early morning sun blazed down warm and yellow.

It had been a few days since they’d let him join and he hadn’t expressed his fears yet, but he was worried.

Zuko started in on a basic form, trying to keep himself from yelling in frustration as the fire that he bent came out tiny and useless. He wasn’t a natural talent at firebending, but under Uncle’s tutelage, he’d become _good._ Especially in the past year.

So how was he losing that now?

And how could he teach the Avatar firebending when he couldn’t do it himself?

Zuko twisted through the forms, one after another, just as he used to do on his ship during the hunt. Even back then, he’d known that the crew was made up of mercenaries and defectors. It didn’t make them _bad_ , per se, just less loyal to Zuko as the prince, and loyal more to the money that Iroh and their various side exploits lined their pockets with.

When he was finished with the forms, he bowed to no one and sighed.

“Those were cool,” a voice said, scaring the life out of him. Zuko jumped a foot in the air, only to see Aang sitting on a nearby wall.

He was a curious kid, Zuko thought. He’d struggled to capture this twelve-year-old for a long time, and yet, now he’d known him for a few days, he realised that there was no grand plan to it. There was no expertise to avoiding capture – he was just an excitable child with great power who got lucky over and over again. He told Zuko all about penguin sledding and riding giant koi – their entire path up to the North Pole (which Zuko _had_ thought was designed to trip him up and be difficult to follow) was just a tour of ridiculous locations and tourist attractions that Aang particularly wanted to visit.

“They could’ve been cooler,” Zuko admitted. Maybe Aang was here to start his first lesson – Zuko couldn’t begin by saying _do what I say, not what I do, because I don’t have it anymore._ “My firebending’s practically gone.”

Aang’s eyebrows furrowed. “Gone?”

“Yeah.” Zuko slid into a position, hoping for a burst of flame. What came out was barely enough to light a match.

“It’s… humble,” Aang said.

“It’s pathetic! Look at this!” He tried again and all that came out was smoke. “How am I supposed to teach you firebending if I can’t even do it myself?”

Aang pulled a sheepish expression and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, what can you even do about losing your bending?” he asked. “It seems like once it’s gone, it’s not gonna come back.”

“That’s not how it works,” Zuko huffed.

Aang looked up. “It’s not?”

“Bending doesn’t just… _leave_ you. Once you have it, it’s yours. I just need to find a way to get mine back.”

“How?”

Zuko turned in a circle, peered at the sunrise and huffed. “I’m not sure. I think it’s gone because… because fire comes from drive, right?” He looked over to Aang, who listened intently. “It’s fuelled by the gut, by purpose—and I guess, my purpose has changed. What fuelled my fire for so long was anger, was this need to get back home. And now… now it’s changed.”

“Can fire be fuelled _not_ by anger?” Aang asked carefully.

“Uncle’s fire came from something else,” Zuko replied, sure though Uncle had never said as much. “It has to be possible… Maybe… Who were the original airbenders?”

“Hm? The air bison. Like Appa.”

“And water?”

Aang shrugged. “The fish in the magic pond.” Zuko raised an eyebrow and Aang clicked his fingers. “I don’t remember their names. They were spirits, though, of the moon and ocean. Sokka and Katara say their names instead of swearing.”

“Like Agni,” Zuko said with a nod. “Okay, magical fish spirits. And earth?”

“Badgermoles,” Aang replied.

Zuko paused. “Didn’t Toph learn directly from badgermoles?”

Aang shrugged. “I think so? How do you know that?”

“She told me.”

“Do you think you could do that? Learn from the original firebenders?”

“Well, they were dragons.”

Aang’s eyes stretched wide. “You’re gonna meet _dragons?!_ ”

Zuko coughed. “No. They’re all dead. Fire Lord Sozin popularised hunting dragons for sport. If you killed one, you earned its title.” He thought about his uncle, The Dragon of The West, and pushed the thought away.

“Oh.”

Zuko turned back to the sunrise. “But there were others. An ancient civilisation known as the Sun Warriors. They learnt firebending from Agni himself. Maybe if I went there, I’d be able to refuel my fire. Then I could teach you.”

Aang leapt off the wall, suddenly excited. “A field trip? I love field trips!”

“You want to come?” Zuko asked, surprised.

“Well, sure. This is a journey about getting bending back and I—uh, I think that’s very interesting, is all. Come on! We’ll take Appa.”

It wasn’t a long journey. By midday, they were flying low over the ruins of the Sun Warrior civilisation. Zuko had recounted what he knew about them to Aang during the trip, and Aang had asked a lot of questions about Agni and the myths that surrounded ancient firebending. He’d asked, too, what they did with the dragon bodies, and Zuko told him shortly about the ceremonial dragon pelts, about the rare and expensive scales being used for armour, for wall decorations, for herbal remedies after being crushed to a fine powder. No part of the dragon was wasted; the bones made into ornate combs and the meat eaten at massive feasts years before he was born. It was said that eating dragon meat would give you wisdom and courage, just as killing a dragon gave you its strength.

They only spent a short time looking around the ruins before they fell into a fairly obvious trap, in hindsight. They performed The Dancing Dragon and picked up the golden egg, and Zuko couldn’t help but feel air rush from his lungs at the warmth of it, the feeling of life inside. He then got particularly distracted by the dark inky substance that threatened to drown them. They met the Sun Warriors, not as dead as they were expected to be, and persuaded their way into taking on the challenge to meet the masters rather than being executed immediately.

But that revealed another problem: Aang not being able to keep his flame from dying.

It happened immediately. _Literally immediately._

The chief placed a small flame in Zuko’s hand, a little heartbeat, a sign of life, and then passed another to Aang. It went out. The chief stared, Zuko stared and Aang started panic-talking, which was never good.

“Are you or are you not a firebender?” the chief demanded.

“I am! I’m supposed to be! I think,” Aang replied. “I just—I’ve been having trouble and I’ve only firebent once in my life, so I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m _so sorry_ for letting the fire go out. Please, give me another chance.” He bowed low and was handed another flame. This one stayed alight, and Zuko let out a sigh of relief.

However, ten minutes into their journey up the mountain, Aang admitted in a whisper: “I’m not firebending.”

“Of course you’re firebending,” Zuko replied, rolling his eyes. “I can _see the fire._ ”

“I’m using airbending to keep it alive,” Aang said. “Fire needs air to survive, so I’m just feeding it and holding it in place. It’s not the same.”

Zuko stared at him. “Why aren’t you firebending?!”

“Because I can’t!”

“You’re the Avatar, dummy,” Zuko said, turning and climbing up the next stretch of hill. “You’re a firebender.”

“But I’m not! I can’t do it!” Aang insisted.

Zuko shook his head. “Just keep the flame alive until we meet the masters,” he said. “Maybe they won’t even notice.”

The masters, it turned out about an hour later, were _dragons._ Which shouldn’t be possible, because they were all dead. Except there they were, Ran and Shaw, two original firebenders sweeping around them and stealing their breath away.

Stealing the fire from their hands.

They danced, then, The Dancing Dragon, because Aang insisted, because they were being judged and neither of them knew what to do. Aang was the Avatar and Zuko was the son of the Fire Lord, great-grandson to the man who started an epic war and led to the deaths of every dragon except two.

And then they stopped and faced the massive, ominous faces of the firebending masters. They were being judged. They were being held accountable.

The fire that consumed them next didn’t burn, but tunnelled into a hurricane, shooting burning yellow and red and blue into the sky. The fire shifted and changed, whipping heat across their faces, a thousand colours Zuko had never seen before. It _told_ him things, somehow. It told him truths. He faced his Uncle, his father, his sister in the fire. He faced himself.

He heard crying and dragged his gaze from the flames to Aang, on his knees, sobbing and staring up at their judgement.

They had passed.

The dragons left.

So did they.

iii

Aang and Zuko rested in the saddle on Appa’s back as they started back towards the Western Air Temple. Aang knotted his hands over his stomach. When they were done with the firebending masters, Zuko’s fire had been— _beautiful._ Colourful. Lit with pinks and greens and blues. Fire like Aang had never seen before. Fire like no one had ever seen before.

 _You have been favoured by the masters,_ the chief had said. _They believe you will do great things._

Then they had turned to Aang. Who wasn’t a firebender, who had lied his way to judgement and still passed, if only because the masters had peered right into his soul and seen good intentions, seen a desperate hope that by learning from them, he might gain back what he had lost.

The fire revealed him, sliced off the lies he wore on his skin and dove straight for the truth. _You are no longer the Avatar,_ the fire said. _You are no longer a firebender,_ the fire told him. _You can learn nothing from us except acceptance._

That was all Aang left with: the knowledge that this could not be reversed. That he was something new now and would always be. He left with the peace that came with it.

Acceptance smoothed out the turmoil that stormed around his insides and made him soft, quiet. He was no longer the Avatar and there was nothing he could do to change that fact: he had to move on. He had to do the best he could with what he had. He had to be honest.

Aang hadn’t bent fire for the audience, had instead placed his hand on Zuko’s arm and said _Let’s go home,_ had flopped into the saddle beside Zuko, and stared at the changing colours in the sky, from day to night.

Eventually, he said, “I’m not the Avatar.”

Zuko replied, “I figured.” Aang peered over and Zuko shrugged. “The dragons know us better than we know ourselves. They’re also pretty big gossips.”

Aang rolled his head back so he could look at the sky again. “When Azula killed me, she killed the Avatar,” he said. “I came back only an airbender. Everything else is gone.”

Zuko blew out a long breath. “So, even when I _join_ the Avatar, I still can’t actually get the Avatar.”

Aang huffed out a laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. So there’s a new Avatar in the South Pole somewhere?”

“I don’t think so,” Aang replied. “I think the Avatar Cycle is done.”

Zuko raised his eyebrows.

“She got me while I was in the Avatar State.”

“If there’s no Avatar, who’s going to bring balance to the world?”

Aang shrugged. “I think that’s everyone’s job now. The world has to stop relying on one person to fix everything. They now have to work to fix the world themselves.”

They were quiet for a while, then Zuko said, “That’s not a bad thing.”

“No,” Aang agreed, “it’s not a bad thing.”

“And you’re… okay with it?”

Aang’s smile was sad, but it was a smile all the same. “I think so,” he said. “But If I’m not right now, I will be.”

vi

The day that Zuko and Aang vanished on a field trip, Katara received word about the assassination attempt on the Fire Lord. It came via Hawky, a messenger hawk Sokka had bought and briefly owned before using it to send a message to Dad. They then moved locations and it occurred to Sokka that perhaps Hawky would not know where to find him anymore, and the bird was probably a lost cause.

But there it was, somehow, flying down to the Western Air Temple with the news from Dad: there had been an attempt on the life of Fire Lord Ozai, but the Fire Nation Princess, injured as she was, managed to kill the assassin.

They told Zuko and Aang when they returned the next day, filled with news and stories. Like how Zuko now knew Aang was no longer the Avatar, and how Aang himself was at peace with it. Zuko showed off his new fire, stronger than Katara had seen it, now with beautiful curls of colours, like something out of a fairy tale. He seemed so content that it gave Katara a tiny twinge of guilt when she showed him the letter.

His face closed off and he landed heavily on the stone before them.

“What happens now?” Katara asked. “We have no Avatar and no invasion.”

“We still have to try,” Aang replied. “But isn’t this assassination attempt a good thing? It means someone else out there has it out for the Fire Lord. Possibly even _in the Fire Nation._ ” The report had listed the assassin as being an incredibly rare breed of firebender who could cause explosions with his mind. Zuko had only heard legends about them. “Maybe there’s more people in the Fire Nation against this war than we thought.”

Zuko shrugged, still reading over the news. He had barely looked away from it since it was given to him.

“We can’t rely on that,” he said. “The people of the Fire Nation have been spoon-fed propaganda for this war since before they would walk. They’re oppressed and scared to speak their minds. They won’t rise up against my father.”

“You’re sure?” Sokka asked.

Zuko nodded. “Even if they did, it’d take years of targeted, secret teaching. Re-programming, maybe. We don’t have that kind of time.”

“So I’ll have to face the Fire Lord still,” Aang said. “I’ll just have to do it without the Avatar.”

“Then we’ll lose,” Zuko said. “He’s too strong to take on alone, _especially_ on the day of the comet.”

“We could fight with you,” Katara suggested. “Look at us – we have everything the Avatar has right here. All four elements.”

“And me,” Sokka said. “The Avatar had me, too.”

“And Sokka,” Katara allowed.

But Aang shook his head. “The Avatar’s most powerful force was the Avatar State. I could control incredible amounts of power with that. We don’t have it. _Maybe_ with the four of us—”

“Five,” Sokka said.

“—we could overpower him. If we trained hard. But he’ll have an entire army, plus Azula and her friends. We’d get separated and then we’d lose.”

They fell into silence. It didn’t matter that Katara was a master waterbender, that Aang was a master airbender – the Fire Nation would be more powerful than ever on the day of the comet. And Zuko had already told them that the Fire Lord wouldn’t leave his palace before that day; he would stay hidden in the centre of the Fire Nation. The only way to get to him would be during the eclipse, and well – that was a no go.

“If we _have_ to fight him on the day of the comet,” Toph said, “then we need an upper hand. We need something he would never think of.”

They flopped back in thought, then wandered away to give it more time. They made lunch, Katara practiced with water from the fountain, Zuko trained out in the courtyard. She disliked how mesmerising she found the fire to be. She hadn’t even known fire could look like that; could look like something wonderous, more than just destruction and pain.

Fire, to Katara, was her mother’s death, her burned corpse. It was a destroyed village and hands pressed into a lake to cool the wounds. It was soldiers and war and the crackling sounds after they had gone. It was a dogged hunt across the world and the moon spirit’s violent death, a blood red moon above them. It was everything bad that had wrought everything worse. It was the Fire Lord and Azula and Zuko. It was Zuko and Zuko and _Zuko._ And yet—

Her water splashed to the ground as she watched. She’d never seen firebending so cultivated and careful. She’d never seen it be beautiful.

Then, before her eyes, Zuko’s stance changed, his movements changing from the fast, direct movements of firebending to something smoother, with sweeping gestures and fluid footwork. It took her a few seconds to recognise it as waterbending, to recognise it as movements that she had used, probably even against him. His firebending was different then, powerful and beautiful in a different way, in a way that she wouldn’t quickly know how to block. The moves weren’t _firebending._ They were something else.

She stepped forward. “Where did you learn to do that?”

Zuko’s fire petered out into the air. “To… firebend?”

“To firebend like a waterbender.”

Zuko’s face cleared and she watched the idea form in his head, just like it was forming in her own. “My Uncle,” he said. “And you.”

They called the team back together, and found a patch where the stone ran into dirt, so Zuko could draw with a stick into the dust and they could all peer over it.

“This is how my uncle taught it to me,” he said. “Fire is the element of power. The people of the Fire Nation have drive and desire. It’s what fuels their bending.”

“Like you,” Aang said.

“Like me,” he agreed. “Earth is the element of substance. The Earth Kingdom people are strong. They’re enduring, persistent. They don’t give up. Air is the element of freedom. The Air Nomads separated themselves from the rest of the world and found peace and freedom. They didn’t concern themselves with worldly matters. And water is the element of change. The people of the Water Tribe are adaptable with a deep sense of community.”

Katara raised an eyebrow. If he’d known all this all along, why had he still been a jerk?

With each description, he drew a symbol of the appropriate nation, and now he divided them with lines. “If you learn from only one place, you can’t see the whole picture. Your bending will become rigid, stale. So you have to draw wisdom and teaching from other places… if you understand why waterbenders move the way they do and bring it into firebending, then you have an entirely new form of power.” He drew a circle around the nations. “If you understand the other elements, Uncle said you become whole.”

He sat back on his hunches to look at them expectantly. When no one said anything he sighed. “Uncle taught me a technique he learnt from studying waterbenders. He taught me how to redirect lightning.”

“You can _do_ that?” Aang asked.

“Yes, though, I’ve never done it myself. Uncle has. It involves drawing a path from one arm, down to the stomach, and back out the other arm, directing the lightning through your body. After he taught me that, I guess I just started paying attention to other moves. It entirely changes the game when the person you’re fighting doesn’t fight back how you expect them to.”

Katara pressed her lips together, studying the drawing in the dirt. “If we learnt from each other, you think we might change how we bend enough to defeat the Fire Lord?”

Zuko shrugged. “It’s an idea.”

“It’s the only one we’ve got,” Aang said, quiet. “I think it’s worth a try.”

They stood, and then Sokka said, high-pitched, “Mmkay, but what am _I_ supposed to do?”

“Plan the day of the comet,” Zuko replied with a shrug. “You can bet the Fire Nation’s day is planned to a T. If we aren’t prepared and we go in there without a plan—”

“Zuko’s right,” Aang said. “You’re our strategist, Sokka.”

Sokka seemed content with this for now, and the day wore thin as they paired up, training to move like each other. Katara and Aang worked on one balcony, while Zuko and Toph disappeared to another. Despite Zuko’s studying waterbending, Aang had been quick to pipe up that it might be easier to start with a bending style that wasn’t the exact opposite of their own, and so they sparred, studying each other’s footwork and arm movements, trying to move in the way the other might.

Day bled into night and night into day. Katara practised alone under the moon, trying to picture the way Toph grounded herself or Zuko moved through punches of sharp attacks. It was difficult and slow to change the way she could bend, but the progress was there; attacks that she had never considered making, the water shining under the moonlight.

The training continued over a week, Sokka occasionally jumping in with his sword, as he needed to know how to fight against benders more than anyone. Sometimes Katara sat by and watched as Zuko pulled out his twin blades and they fought across the temple, Sokka’s laughter echoing off the walls.

It was peaceful, somehow. As if the battle wasn’t looming, the comet growing closer.

And she didn’t dislike it. These moments of quiet, of training, were a touchpoint, a place to sink into and feel comfortable. Even when she eventually agreed to spar with Zuko, and fire flickered close to her body but never quite touched, like he had learnt restraint from those dragons, patience from his uncle. They fought and she recognised the waterbender in him like he recognised the firebender in her.

Fighting like this was about ferocity, about power and impact in movements, while his slowed, his palms open and his limbs graceful.

She wondered, later, alone in the moonlight, what would happen after the war, what would happen to _him._ She knew how he had come to be this way – a warlord father and a cruel sister, followed by a soothing balm of an uncle who only asked for him to try, not for him to succeed. But what came next? Would he take the throne? Would the Fire Nation let him? And would all this sudden new talk about combining nations and learning from each other continue after his father was deposed? Or would the ingrained Fire Nation superiority win out?

Katara almost didn’t want to know.

Was it her duty to assume he would betray them once more? So these sparring sessions could become less about learning for herself, and more about learning how to take him down? Or was the trust that the others placed in him warranted? Could she find a way to believe that he would do what was best for the world after the comet came and he assumed the throne?

The days merged together as they trained. They knew they had time to figure it all out, to learn and grow and change.

They were out on the balcony one day, the five of them darting around in combat, a twisted spar that made little sense – Sokka’s sword against Aang, who was facing off at the same time against Toph, who was blocking Katara’s attacks while also backing up Zuko against her. It was a mess of limbs and elements; rubble flying and wind whipping at their faces. The colourful fire lit their skin pink and yellow and purple, and ice shot past them like Toph would send rocks.

Katara swung a fist in Zuko’s direction, the water following her punch. He sent an arm up to block it, fire following in its wake until—it didn’t. It vanished into thin air and the water drenched his right side, as if they weren’t already a little soaked to begin with. There was a sudden look of panic on Zuko’s face as he tried to send a bolt of fire her direction, but nothing came out. Nothing happened.

“Zuko?” she asked. “What’s happening?”

He clapped his hands together, held one out. “I don’t know. It’s gone.”

“Again?” Aang asked. He ducked under Sokka’s blade and then they both stopped. All five of them quiet as Zuko tried to bend.

“How can it be gone?”

“Does it feel like before?” Aang questioned. “Are you fuelling it wrong?”

“No! No, I don’t—I just feel empty. Like I can’t reach it.”

Sokka looked around. “No way…” he breathed. “The eclipse! It has to be the eclipse!

The ran over to the edge, peering up and—yes. There it was. They saw it for a mere second before looking away, Sokka instructing them not to look at it directly.

“It’s the day of the invasion,” Sokka said. “Or _would-be_ invasion.”

They were quiet for a minute. Aang let out a long breath. “This should’ve been our victory day,” he said. “We should’ve ended the war today.”

“It was a doomed plan,” Katara said, her hand on his shoulder. “The Fire Nation already knew.”

A beat passed and then Toph asked, “What does it look like?”

Zuko’s smile was funny, not entirely there but trying. It was sad, too, somehow. “It looks like a black sun,” he said. “Like darkness where there should be light.”

v

Iroh breathed in. Breathed out. The moment was coming.

He had spent his imprisonment training, becoming strong again, like he had been in his youth. Like he had been at the beginning of the campaign against Ba Sing Se. What a war. What a loss. What a blemish he’d placed on the world.

It was his job now to capture it once more, to return it to the Earth Kingdom.

He would fix the mistakes of his past. Of his brother and niece and country.

Many had thought of Iroh as a dragon, but he was just a man. As a man, he had far more responsibility than the dragons did. He had power that pushed him forward, gave him a duty, a purpose.

Iroh scraped back the brick in the wall and retrieved the knife Zuko had given him from behind it. He had sent it to Zuko from Ba Sing Se many years before, and when this was done, he would give it back. Zuko would need it more than he.

 _Never give up without a fight,_ the inscription read.

Iroh stood. The moment was coming.

It was close. It was close.

It was here.

**NOTICE FOR THE STAFF OF THE ROYAL PALACE**

**NOT TO BE DISTRIBUTED**

**WRITTEN BY HEAD PALACE ATTENDANT KUMA**

Upon the day of the comet and our great nation’s hour of victory against the Earth Kingdom, all palace military personnel are to report to the airstrip and their duties in the forthcoming attack.

Any palace guards and her highness, Princess Azula’s, personal Dai Li agents are to report to her highness and secure the palace compound for any nobles entering throughout the day.

When the comet passes overhead, Princess Azula will be crowned as the new Fire Lord, taking on our brave and courageous Fire Lord Ozai’s title. He will ascend earlier in the day to the supreme position of Phoenix King to rule over the world on the Fire Nation’s glorious day of honour.

Palace cleaners are to attend to the ceremonial hall and all kitchen staff are to arrive by sunrise to prepare the feast. The throne room’s coal must be changed out during the morning to provide sufficient fuel for her highness’ fire.

Finally, to whoever broke the royal vase of Fire Lord’s past in the south-west hall and stuck it back together in the hopes that no one would notice: we noticed.

> **Iroh said:**
> 
> Sometimes life is like this tunnel. You can’t always see the light at the end of the tunnel, but if you keep moving, you will come to a better place.

vi

“Oh, you are _insufferable._ ”

“ _I’m_ insufferable? You can’t even be civil for _five minutes!_ ”

“That’s because you’re _insufferable!_ ”

Zuko ducked out of the way as Katara lobbed a ball of snow in his direction. It landed by his foot and began to melt. Why was she _always_ like this?

“You just hate me because I’m a firebender,” Zuko spat.

Katara raised her arms wide. “Feels like a good enough reason for me!”

“Oh, _Agni,_ get over it!”

“Get over a _hundred year war?_ ” she seethed. “Get over all the torture and pain your people have put mine through!”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I meant!”

“Of course it is!” she cried. “You’re all _good_ now, so you think we can all move on from the past! But you’re the same person who hunted Aang across the world! You’re the same person who took him into that blizzard! And you’re the same person who killed him!”

They went silent. Smoke raised from Zuko’s hands as he struggled to keep his breathing even. Somewhere in his periphery, the others were watching. They’d rehashed this exact argument every day since the invasion and every day before that, too. It didn’t matter how well Zuko and Katara fought together, how evenly matched they were in combat. It didn’t matter how often he stayed awake to watch her practice, something serene washing over him, or how often he caught a glimpse of her at sunrise when he trained alone.

There was too much bad blood to get past. It boiled between them.

“I _didn’t_ kill Aang,” he said, low and measured.

“You might as well have,” Katara retorted. “If you hadn’t joined Azula—”

“I had no choice—”

“You had no choice!?” her voice was high and sarcastic. “Oh, you _made_ a choice.”

“She promised me my home back!” he said, though he’d said it before and she hadn’t cared then, either. “She promised my _family_ back—”

“That’s nice for you,” Katara said, “but some of us don’t just _get_ their family back. Some of us have mothers who were killed by firebenders in their own homes.”

“Katara,” Sokka interjected, and her face softened an inch when she looked at him. There was a new girl in the group with short, choppy hair and a talent a lot like Ty Lee’s. Zuko and Sokka had gone to the Boiling Rock, the Fire Nation’s most impenetrable prison, to help her escape. She placed a hand on Sokka’s shoulder, sensing the hurt.

“I had nothing to do with that,” Zuko huffed.

“You’re the _prince_ ,” she replied, the softness vanishing. “Your country is your responsibility. You may not have raised the hand but that is on your shoulders too.”

Zuko swallowed. She was right, wasn’t she? He could’ve been no more than seven or eight at that time, his grandfather still in power – but the sins of the Fire Nation were on his conscience, too. And after the comet, after his father’s death – wouldn’t he be returning to the Fire Nation to claim his throne?

So he said, “Who did it?”

“What?”

“Who raided your village?”

“I don’t know,” she said, incredulous. “Firebenders. _Your_ soldiers.”

“I know that. But _who?_ What fleet?” He looked over to Sokka, who was watching with a concerned expression. “Do you remember anything about the fleet?”

“Uh… yeah. Sea ravens,” Sokka said, running a hand over his hair. “The flag had sea ravens.”

Zuko blinked. “The Southern Raiders.” He looked back to Katara. “I know who killed your mother.”

She stepped back, her eyes wide and blue and scared. “How can you—Zuko—”

“I’ll help you find them,” he said. “If you want.”

“Why—”

“Because you’re right,” he said. “I didn’t raid your village that day, but those are my people. I answer for their actions. So—what do you say?”

Katara’s face turned to steel. She nodded. “Okay.”

“I don’t know about this,” Aang said, worrying his hands together. “What would you even do if you found them? What would this even accomplish?”

“You don’t understand,” Katara said, starting away from the courtyard where they’d been arguing. Zuko followed her on instinct, the others trailing behind with their protests.

“This is about loss,” Aang called after her. “Of course I understand loss! It’s painful and it makes you angry—how do you think I felt about the sandbenders when they stole Appa? Or how I felt about the Fire Nation when I found out what happened to my people?”

“Maybe I _need_ this,” Katara said, turning to face him and walking backwards. “Maybe I _need_ to feel this – to let it out.”

“It’s about closure,” Zuko added with a sad understanding. He pictured what he would do to find his mother, to avenge whatever had happened to her. “Justice.”

“That sounds a whole lot like revenge,” Aang replied.

“Fine!” Katara cried. “Maybe I _need_ revenge! Maybe that’s what he deserves!”

“Katara,” Sokka sighed, “she was my mother, too, but I think Aang may be right.”

“Then you didn’t love her the way I did!”

“Katara!”

Suki pulled a face. “Katara, you don’t mean that.”

There was quiet for a moment, and then Katara shook her head. Zuko regretted bringing this up, but not enough that if she wanted to go through with it, he wouldn’t help. Katara found her things and rummaged through her bag, pulling out black fabric and a smaller satchel to carry supplies.

“Aang, we’re in a war, do you get that?” she asked.

“Do I _get that?_ ”

“Yes. I know you’ve seen what happened to your people, but you didn’t _see_ it. You didn’t see the Fire Nation invade. You didn’t see your temples burn. I did. I saw the ash falling like snow. I saw the ships crashing into our home and the man in my own fucking house. I saw my mother crying—”

“Katara,” Sokka breathed.

She shook her head. “War is bloodshed, Aang. I know we’ve spent the past year together, but I don’t think you’ve looked at it the same way. You knock people out and run away, you leave firebenders unconscious to live and hurt another day.”

“Of course I do!” Aang cried. “All life is precious—”

“No, it’s not,” she said, standing suddenly. “It’s not when it’s cruel and torturous. It’s not when it destroys your home and your family and your people.” She shook her head. “It’s like you ignored everything we did right beside you. Do you think _we’ve_ left people alive?”

Zuko eyed Aang as he swallowed nervously, looking between his friends. Toph’s head was ducked, her fists clenched, and Sokka had turned away, only Suki looked on, unafraid of the things she’d done in this fight. Had Aang really been a _pacifist_ so far? Did he think everyone else had, too?

“I—I know you’ve all done things, sometimes,” Aang started.

“Try every time,” Katara replied. “We have killed, Aang. We’ve drowned and decapitated and _killed._ That is what war has to be sometimes, when you’re thrown into one without consent – when a single nation wants land and money and slaves.” She took an even breath, her eyes fluttering shut for a second. “I need to do this,” she said. “I always thought the soldiers that raided the South Pole were nameless, faceless, but they’re not. If Zuko knows how to find them, I _have_ to do this. For Dad. For Mom. For _us._ ”

Sokka ducked his head.

Aang’s voice was very soft, barely audible. “The monks used to say that revenge is like a two-headed rat viper. While you watch your enemy go down, you’re being poisoned yourself.” He sniffed. “I hope you don’t choose revenge, Katara, but I understand that you need to go, that this is a journey you need to take. You need to face this man. But when you do, please don’t choose revenge. Let your anger out, and then let it go. Forgive him.”

“If there were forgiveness in war,” Katara said, “then we might as well have rolled over and let them kill us.”

They packed their things. They dressed in black. They took Appa and vanished into the sky. Katara flew the bison through the evening and well into the night as Zuko slept in the saddle. His sleep was dreamless bar the voice of his mother, an echoing statement reverberating around and around and around: _I love you, Zuko, I love you, Zuko, I love you, Zuko._ When he woke with the sun, Katara was still awake and flying.

They continued on, all the way down south to the Fire Nation Navy outpost, where they slipped into the main office and flipped through the files and documents. Zuko drew a finger across the page, to the Southern Raiders’ most recent location, and the two of them vanished out the window, back onto Appa and into the shadows.

They spoke rarely on the trip, and Zuko hoped that whatever would become of this journey, it would at least lead to some kind of understanding between them. He knew what he did in the Catacombs was wrong, he knew he was given a choice and made the wrong one. But he also knew that the temptation of home and restored honour was too much to turn away – he had only made the change in his life a few days before, he was not far enough along in understanding right and wrong to be strong enough to say no to his sister.

He could still remember her face, honest in a devilish way. _Dad will welcome you back with open arms._ Was that not all he had wanted for three years? How could he have ever found the courage to turn that down?

Still, though, he’d made the mistake, he bore the sins of his country, and now he had to fix them, one by one. Some would not be as easy as tracking down the Commander of the Southern Raiders and letting the girl he hurt act out her pain. He thought of the pressure he’d felt, sitting in that war room or on the throne – it would be even heavier after the comet, when he took the Fire Nation for himself, when he worked to repair the damage it had done. How would he undo a hundred years of pain and loss? What would he do about the colonies in the Earth Kingdom? Or the dragons that were almost extinct? How could he make the Fire Nation a presence of peace when everything the people knew was about power?

He thought, not for the first time, that Uncle should take the throne after the war. He reminded himself, though, not for the first time either, that Uncle wouldn’t. He didn’t know if Uncle had successfully broken out of the prison on the day of the eclipse, a week before, but Zuko hoped he was alright. Hoped he didn’t hate Zuko for the choices he made.

It was evening, the moon rising, when they found the right ship, the double sea raven flag billowing in the wind. Katara raised the black fabric over her nose and Zuko copied, standing close to her so she could sink them under the water and get them to the ship undetected. When he looked at her, all he could see was her eyes; the frigid blue of the Arctic ocean, like icebergs and blizzards and the kind of water that would freeze you within minutes and sink your body to the depths, forever left to be undiscovered.

Once onboard, they fought their way through the ship; Zuko blasting fire down a hall and Katara leaping from one wall to the next, the water that swallowed her arms whipping out to freeze soldiers to the floor.

They broke into the bridge and Zuko kicked out the Commander’s knee. When he tried to firebend at them, he froze suddenly, body shaking and twitching as he collapsed onto the ground, face frozen in shock.

Zuko looked from the Commander to Katara, her hands thrust forward, fingers crooked and tense. _Bloodbender,_ his mind said. Like that night falling from Appa’s back when his entire body betrayed him, answering to another. He had almost vomited off Appa’s back afterwards, after the incredulity, after the reality of her power. His body had not been his own.

Zuko gathered himself and crouched down by the Commander. “You look her in the eye, asshole. You look her in the eye and tell her you don’t remember what you did.” The man’s deep brown eyes flickered to Katara’s, before he was released, slumping to the floor.

“It’s not him,” Katara said. “That’s not the man.”

“But it has to be!” Zuko cried. “He’s the leader of the Southern Raiders!”

“His eyes are wrong,” she insisted. “It’s _not him._ ”

Zuko stared at her helplessly for a moment, and she almost looked sorry – sorry that she couldn’t help him make it up to her, make it _all_ up to her. Maybe she wanted him to, he thought – maybe she wanted to forgive him and he just had to earn it. But he couldn’t do that if the trail went cold, if he couldn’t find the man who murdered her mother.

“Zuko,” she whispered.

He sniffed, then turned and picked up the Commander, slamming him into the wall.

“If you’re not the man we’re looking for, who is?”

The soldier quivered, crying and sweating, as he whimpered, “You must be looking for Yon Rha. He retired four years ago.” He gave Zuko the village the old Commander lived in as Katara left. Zuko met the eye of this soldier, of one of the men that he might one day rule. He thought about killing him to keep him quiet and then dismissed the thought. His country had to be redeemable, Zuko thought. His people _had_ to be redeemable.

He dropped the Commander and ran after Katara.

They travelled in silence again, until the early morning when they landed in the village. It was quaint and quiet; a few houses strewn about the countryside with a small market in the centre. The sort of place Commanders would go to retire, Zuko assumed.

“Where did you learn to bloodbend?” Zuko asked as they approached the village. No one had given him the story after the last time she’d done it; just explained what it _was,_ that it shouldn’t have been possible without a full moon.

“An old lady,” Katara replied. “She’d been captured by the Fire Nation sixty years ago and invented the technique to escape.”

“And she just… taught it to you?”

Katara hummed. “She wanted someone else to continue her work, I guess. But she’s—she was bad. She hurt the people of her village, kept them chained underground. Innocent people.”

“Why didn’t she go back home?” Zuko asked.

Katara glanced back at him. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I can’t fathom _not_ wanting to go home.”

Zuko could, he supposed. He didn’t want to go home, himself. He didn’t want to step foot in the palace if Azula and his father were there, didn’t want to attend war meetings or balls with nobility. And Toph—he couldn’t imagine her _wanting_ to go home either. She’d told him at great length as they sparred or as she tried to make it look like she wasn’t sitting close to him for his natural warmth about what her homelife had been like, how much she preferred travelling.

But the Water Tribe was community-centred, it always had been.

Soon enough, they found Yon Rha and followed him through town. He lived up on the top of a hill and carried the food he’d bought in a basket, clearly paranoid about being followed. He looked old but still strong, a firebender with copper eyes and chin length grey hair, pulled back. His face was narrow and gaunt, all high cheekbones and a long jaw. Zuko had never heard of him before, but as he and Katara watched, he grew sure that this was the right man. It was the way Katara looked at him, the way her fists clenched.

They ambushed him on the trail towards his house.

“Please!” he pleaded, on the floor, his basket upturned. “Whoever you are, take my money! Take whatever you want! I’ll cooperate.”

 _Some Commander,_ Zuko thought as Katara stalked towards him, rain beginning to spit down on them from the overcast sky.

She crouched down in front of him and pulled down her mask. “Do you know who I am?”

“I’m… No. I’m not sure.”

“Oh, you better remember me like your life depends on it!” she growled. “Why don’t you take a closer look?”

Yon Rha’s face cleared in recognition. “Yes, yes, I remember you now. You’re that little Water Tribe girl. From the South Pole…” Zuko clocked the moment he remembered what had happened that day; little Katara running to get her father and him killing her mother before she got back.

“Do you know something?” Katara asked, standing. “She lied to you. She wasn’t the last waterbender. She was protecting the last waterbender.”

“What?” Yon Rha asked, shocked, as if he would get up now and remedy that. “Who?”

Katara glared down at him, like some sort of spirit, something _other_ and wholly fuelled with furious rage. “ _ME!”_ Katara raised her arms at the rain froze in the air, a thousand droplets suspended in a wide dome around them.

Zuko tugged down his mask and peered up at it all. She stopped the rain. The drops that came from directly above became caught in her sphere of power, attaching to form an entire dome around them, shielding them from the outside world.

Katara wasn’t even moving, her arms simply raised.

Zuko knew she was powerful. He swallowed. Had she not even been _trying_ during their spars?

Then, with a slash of her hand, the water funnelled together, a forceful stream of water directed at Yon Rha, transforming into a flurry of ice daggers midway through the attack. Yon Rha yelled, covering his face, but they stopped, mid-air. Katara’s icy blue eyes looked like burning.

“I did a bad thing!” Yon Rha cried, shuffling to his knees. “I know I did and you deserve revenge, so why don’t you take _my_ mother? That would be fair!”

Zuko was tempted to attack him himself, but Katara straightened, letting the water drop in a splash to the ground. She looked pitying. “I always wondered what kind of person could do such a thing, but now that I see you, I think I understand. There’s just nothing inside you, nothing at all. You’re pathetic, and sad, and empty.”

Yon Rha bent his head down, crying. “Please, spare me!”

Katara stared at him for a moment, and Zuko thought she might turn away. Instead, she said, “No, I won’t,” and raised her hand. Yon Rha looked up in surprise, just in time for the water to slash up through his throat, an icy blade slitting through the skin and splashing blood across the ground.

Katara stepped back. The rain continued to fall. She looked at Zuko, who tore his gaze away from the dead body to stare back. Her jaw was tense and working.

“Let’s go,” she said, and Zuko nodded. They left Yon Rha in the mud.

On the way back to the temple, Zuko climbed out of the saddle and onto Appa’s head, the sun setting in the distance, the last rays of warmth vanishing behind the sea. Katara’s eyes were rimmed with dark shades of purple from no sleep and she didn’t even bother to fight him as he took the reins. Instead, she settled back into Appa’s fur, her eyes drooping.

She asked, “Am I a bad person?”

“Not at all,” Zuko replied. “You’re the furthest thing from a bad person.”

Her mouth twisted, her legs stretching out over Appa’s head as she peered up at the sky, the clouds that dispersed themselves above them. “I think I’d be a better person if there wasn’t a war.”

“I think that goes for everybody,” Zuko agreed.

“Do you think we’ll be better when all this is over?”

“I think we’ll have to be.”

Katara nodded, her eyes fluttering shut. Zuko flew on, thinking of the end of the war, thinking of Yon Rha’s surprise right before he died, thinking of how it might feel to be orphaned. Then, Katara whispered, “I couldn’t forgive him.”

“Forgiveness isn’t mandatory.”

“You don’t think?”

He shook his head. “Forgiveness is hard, Katara. And you don’t owe it to anyone, _especially_ not the people who hurt you.”

Katara said, “I think you’re right. I don’t forgive him.” Her eyes were open again, and her hand found his over Appa’s rein. “But I do forgive you.”

He stared down at her. She nodded. “We all want to go home,” she told him, and Zuko let go of the rein, flipping his hand so Katara’s fit into his. She shut her eyes again and drifted off to sleep as the moon rose behind them.

vii

Ty Lee stood on the platform beneath the airship, a show about to begin. Rumours of a flying bison had led them in this direction, towards what had once been the upside-down Western Air Temple of the Air Nomads. The mess at the Boiling Rock had caught their attention; Zuko breaking out the war criminal leader of the Kyoshi Warriors. She, Azula and Mai had arrived just in time to discover that Zuko, whom the warden had informed them was imprisoned, had _escaped_ the inescapable prison. Supposedly, he and a guard had stolen the Warrior and vanished on a flying bison before they arrived.

Now, Ty Lee stretched out her arms above her head, pressing up onto her tiptoes. She felt the wind whipping about her braid and exhaled.

“Show time,” Azula said, marching up behind her.

The attack began.

Fire raged immediately, the walls crumbling under pressure. Ty Lee flipped down onto the courtyard of the upside-down temple, ducking immediately out of the line of fire of a flying rock.

“Zuko!” Ty lee cried, spotting him beside the little earthbender girl. She must’ve been half his height. “Azula said we’d find you here! I’m so glad you’re alive!” She launched herself into a handspring, avoiding the crumbling edge of the temple. “I thought you’d been killed by that assassin who went after the Fire Lord, but Azula _knew_ you’d still be alive!”

Ty Lee knew it was bad, though. She did. He had betrayed the Fire Nation, he was their target. Ty Lee also knew no one would blame her if she didn’t attack him herself – Azula wanted that honour and Ty Lee was happy to hand it over.

“Why didn’t you stay?” she still asked.

“Wow, lady,” the earthbender said, “you talk way too much.”

Ty Lee yelped and ducked under the boulder sent her way. “That was uncalled for!”

“You’re _attacking_ us!” the earthbender shot back.

Ty Lee darted away, though, weaving in and out of the rest of the fray. Mai fought with the cute Water Tribe boy who now had a shiny dark grey sword and wielded it well, while Azula shot blue fire after the boy in orange and yellow— _oh. The Avatar._ He had hair now, which was a very odd sight, and Ty Lee didn’t think it was doing him any favours.

Azula’s eyes burned with passionate fury, probably enraged that he was still alive.

Ty Lee had heard about her victory over him, ending the Avatar while he was in the Avatar State, all glowing eyes and tattoos. Frankly, Ty Lee thought it was odd that a boy so young should have tattoos, but there were far more important matters to think about, like the _Avatar being alive._ And _Zuko in the same location as the Avatar._ Which amounted to _Zuko betraying the Fire Nation to instead fight with the Avatar._

It made Ty Lee sick. She knew that they were here to capture Zuko, she knew that Azula planned to take it further, she knew that his punishment for this would be slow and brutal at best. She hoped the little earthbender girl could protect him and flipped on, landing in a battle with the girl wearing the red prison clothes of the Boiling Rock: the leader of the Kyoshi Warriors.

By the look on her face, she remembered Ty Lee.

This was the kind of fight Ty Lee enjoyed; evenly matched, neither with weapons, neither with bending. Bending always skewed the odds, brought in a higher power Ty Lee couldn’t hope to grasp. She and all her sisters were nonbenders, as were her parents before her and their parents before them; an entire lineage of nonbenders in the heart of the Fire Nation, and she had been itching to fight with someone like herself.

Despite herself and her upbringing, the fight was like a dance; the Warrior moving into the space she had just been, dodging the hits Ty Lee dealt out and swinging around with her own. High and low, the Warrior’s leg kicking out and Ty Lee leaping over it; they traded blows and flipped away from one another, only to dart back in. Then a thin blade shot between them, embedding in the Warrior’s shoulder, and Ty Lee span to see Mai rushing in, the Water Tribe boy entirely gone from Ty Lee’s sight.

“Azula’s gone for Zuko,” Mai said shortly as she darted into the fight, the Warrior girl’s face a twisted anger as she yanked the knife out and span it between her fingers. Ty Lee carried on, running across the open courtyard of the temple – but Azula and Zuko’s loud, burning blows were distant and echoing – she couldn’t find their source. Instead, as she turned a corner into a secluded area, she ran straight into the little Avatar, who leapt back into a fighting stance.

Ty Lee inwardly groaned. He was more than just a bender, he had _all the bending._ That was distinctly unfair.

Still, Ty Lee leapt forward, throwing a punch that he ducked beneath, leaping over his roundhouse kick and flipping backwards to avoid the burst of air that she sensed coming. Airbending, too – _unfair._ Air was invisible! She could only just sense it coming, the brief breeze on her face and the quick reflexes to duck out the way, immediately launching into a new attack.

The Avatar was evasive in his fighting, forcing Ty Lee onto the offensive. Just because they were here for Zuko didn’t mean they could let the Avatar get away – he was supposed to be dead; the future of the Fire Nation hinged on that fact. She lurched after him, knocking her fist towards every pressure point she knew and having her hands batted away each time, only touching air.

The Avatar leapt away and Ty Lee followed, kicking off a wall and swinging off an old, rusting chandelier to follow; light, swift movements that helped her land and attack; grappling at his arms and the two of them falling to the floor. They push apart, rolling on impact, and rising, turning back to each other with fists raised, except—

The Avatar looked very confused, and his aura was… odd. Almost greenish, when it had been bright yellow when they arrived.

“It can’t be,” the Avatar said, frowning.

Ty Lee darted in for another round of blows, and this time he responded in kind, giving her something to dodge, to flip high up over and land gracefully, sweeping out her leg to knock into his ankles. He leapt back just the same as her.

“Don’t you even realise it?” he asked, almost erratic in his voice.

“You’re making no sense,” Ty Lee replied. He’d moved far away from her and she took the moment to gather her breath again and start towards him.

“You’re an airbender.”

She stopped, pulling a face and tilting her head. A laugh bubbled out of her mouth. “What?”

“You have to be,” he said. “You just—you _have_ to be.”

“W-why would I _have_ to be?”

“Because you did all that!” He gestured to the wall, to the impossibly high ceiling as she followed his gaze.

“I’m an acrobat, silly,” she replied.

“No,” the Avatar said, sounding more sure about Ty Lee than Ty Lee had been about anything in her life. “You’re an airbender. Don’t you _feel it?_ It’s in the breath, in the freedom you feel when you’re up high, like you’re flying – like you _belong_ way above the ground.” Ty Lee’s fingers curled into fists as he described thoughts she’d had, word for word. “When you breathe,” the Avatar continued, stepping towards her, “don’t you feel the air so clearly? The way it moves in your body? The way your body moves through air? You can sense it, too – that’s how you dodge so well, without even looking; you’re in tune with the air around you, you can _feel_ the changes when something comes towards you.”

“You can’t—you can’t know that,” Ty Lee said, stepping back. Wasn’t that _exactly_ how she felt in a fight? She could feel the air rushing towards her before anything landed a punch?

“Of course I can!” the Avatar cried. “ _I’m_ an airbender! I know exactly what it’s like! All of that – that’s the Air Nomad inside you—”

“No!” Ty Lee replied. “I’m not a bender – I have _never_ been a bender!”

“That’s because no one knew airbending was even something to be looked out for!” the Avatar insisted. He kept getting closer and Ty Lee kept trying to get further away. He didn’t know her, he didn’t know what she could do. She was an acrobat, was all. She was a natural talent, best in the circus – she could jump higher than… she could jump higher than anyone else. Could swing across the trapeze with total faith that she wouldn’t fall. Could do things no one else could do… but… she was an acrobat…

Her back bumped against the wall. Her breathing was erratic but she felt it so clearly, the in and out, the expand and crush of her lungs.

“It must’ve been passed down through so many generations to reach you,” the Avatar said, lowering his voice now – he must be able to see her panic. He must—he must be _lying,_ right? To get the fight to stop. To distract her and render her _useless_ to Azula, _useless_ to the Fire Nation. “The odds of you being an airbender are so tiny… Ty Lee, is it?” He stepped forward. Ty Lee could not step back. “I’m Aang, I don’t know if you ever learnt my name. It’s so incredible that you’re even here… Maybe there were Nomads who weren’t in the temples when they were decimated, who managed to hide and assimilate into other cultures, even the Fire Nation.” A smile was blooming on his face and Ty Lee wanted to lash out, wanted to cry. She didn’t move. “Ty Lee,” he continued, “I could—I could teach you—”

 _“AANG!”_ a voice yelled, “We’ve got to go!”

There were crashing sounds, the walls crumbling, fights fought with fire. It had all sounded so distant, so underwater, until now.

The Avatar… Aang… looked pained. He didn’t want to go. But he said, “I’m sorry, Ty Lee. I can’t tell you where we’re going – I’ll find you once the war is over. I can teach you! I can’t believe you’re here—I’ll teach you everything, I promise.”

_“AANG!”_

“I have to go now.”

Aang darted around the corner and the sounds of battle followed him. Ty Lee didn’t move. She stood bolt upright, her back against the wall, trembling and staring at the space he had once been. Eventually, as the fight receded and vanished entirely, her legs gave out, and she crumpled to the stone floor, tucking herself into a ball and choking out a sob.

 _You’re an airbender,_ Aang had said.

But she couldn’t be—she _couldn’t._ A gold star lineage of nonbenders, unless… that was the lie they used to tell to hide the truth. Unless her entire history was a series of airbenders that assimilated and the nonbenders that never knew of their parent’s abilities.

She let herself cry for a moment longer before forcing herself to gain control of her breathing. She felt it then, too, this calm, this sense of understanding – something like airbending, something like control as her breaths slowed and her tears fell silently. Had she been airbending all along and never noticed? Had her parents known? Had they just hoped that the impossibility would keep anyone of ever thinking the worst?

She remembered, distantly, swinging from the chandelier in the dining room as a little girl. How had she even got up there? _You’re an excellent little acrobat, Ty Lee,_ her mother said when she was back down. How had she reached the floor again? _Perhaps we should put you in classes._

“Ty Lee! We’re leaving!” Mai’s voice called through the temple. “The airship’s destroyed, we’ve gotta walk back to the rendezvous! Ty Lee!”

Ty Lee clenched her fists together tight and swiped away the tears from her face. She forced herself to her feet and ran through the temple, finding a fountain and splashing her face and hair with it, to look as if the waterbender had fought her and less like she’d been crying.

She steadied her breaths and practised a smile. It felt fake. She did it again.

 _You’re an airbender,_ Aang had said, like she’d just given him a gift.

 _You’re a fool,_ she replied in her head, because he had just given her a death sentence.

viii

Zuko suggested Ember Island as they flew away from the Western Air Temple, so that was where they went.

Sokka rested back in the saddle beside Suki, tucking her under his arm and pressing a kiss into her hair. He made sure not to touch the wound on her shoulder, the one Katara healed as they left the temple behind them. It would not be a short flight, though, so they got comfortable and watched the clouds cover up the burning airship. Zuko and Azula had fought some kind of grudge match that resulted in both of them falling out of the sky. Azula had used her fire to rocket herself to the cliffside, however, while Sokka had flown Appa low and fast to catch Zuko; Katara grabbing his hand and pulling him into the saddle.

As soon as Aang had arrived, looking dazed and – frankly, far more well rested since his little field trip with Zuko than he had in a month – they left. When they were away from the temple, Sokka switched places with Aang to get back into the saddle, and Aang immediately started telling his story about Ty Lee.

“She’s an airbender!” he finished, and the rest of them were quiet until Sokka decided to laugh.

“That’s a good one, Aang!” he said, wiping away a fake tear. “Scary pink acrobat lady is an _airbender!_ What will you come up with next?!”

“I’m serious!” Aang insisted. “And I think she knew it too – or, didn’t know it, but knew I was right when I told her—”

“You _told her_ you thought she was an airbender?” Toph asked.

“Of course I did! There’s been no one else for so long—”

“How would it even be possible?” Suki interrupted. Oh, she was the prettiest. Sokka trailed his fingers absently through her hair. “The Air Nomads were wiped out.”

“Maybe they weren’t!” Aang said. “They were _nomads._ They travelled. There’s no reason to believe they were all in the temples at the time of the attack!”

“Well, we were _told_ they were,” Zuko pointed out, and then his face fell, like he just realised the extent of the propaganda he was taught. Sokka found it interesting how much he knew and how much he _thought_ he knew. “Ty Lee’s not an airbender, though,” he said. “I’ve known her my whole life. She’s been training since she was little.”

“She’s an airbender,” Aang insisted. “And when this war is over, I’m gonna find her and I’m gonna train her.”

“Aang!” Sokka spluttered. “She’s the _enemy!_ ”

“She’s a teenager caught up in a war,” Aang corrected. “And I think she’ll be open to it! She seems very open-minded.”

“So, your plan is to end the hundred year war,” Toph said, counting on her fingers with one hand wrapped tightly around the edge of the saddle, “then go into the Fire Nation, where no doubt everyone will still hate you, and persuade a lady who hates us that we’re gonna be good friends and you’re going to train her in airbending.”

“Yep! That about sums it up,” Aang said, smiling.

Zuko scoffed and Katara raised an eyebrow at him. Since _their_ field trip, they’d been getting on a lot better. Perhaps field trips with Zuko were magical – his certainly had been. (He pressed another kiss to Suki’s hair just because he could.)

“Let him have his dreams,” Katara said, waving a hand. “Besides, if Ty Lee joins us, at least you’ll have a friend from home on our side and not… in prison after all this.”

Zuko pulled a face. “I don’t think you understand,” he said, “if Ty Lee’s an airbender – which I don’t buy, for the record – then she won’t _make it_ to the end of the war.”

“Sparky,” Toph chided, “what are you talking about? Of course she will. She’s crazy dangerous.”

“You don’t know Azula,” Zuko replied. “She’ll figure it out, or Ty Lee will blow the secret. Either way, it’ll get out and Ty Lee will be executed, probably followed by all six of her sisters and then her parents, too, just for good measure.”

The ride was silent until Sokka muttered, “Well, that’s a downer.” Aang still looked hopeful, though, which Sokka had to admire. It was like the concept of _six sisters_ had lodged into his head like it had Sokka’s. He thought of Ty Lao – she didn’t seem like an airbender to him, but what if she was? What if they _all_ were? What if it was possible to restart the air nation?

They flew on through the night and landed on Ember Island in the darkness. Zuko directed them to a large mansion at the top of the island, old and dusty and abandoned. It was his family’s, and Sokka felt immediately uneasy about walking in the same place the Fire Lord had – but he was tired and Suki’s hand was in his, so the need for sleep won out.

They found a bedroom and turned over the mattress, lighting the lanterns and coughing through the dust that rose whenever they moved. In the morning, Aang would have to ventilate the entire house and make it useable again, but for now, they shifted the mattress out into the inner courtyard, as everyone else did the bedding they found, and created a nest of sorts. Sokka would’ve liked to be alone with Suki, but he was sure he’d get the night after and the night after that.

They piled onto the mattresses and cushions, pulling the blankets and sleeping bags from the packs out and over them. Suki rolled onto her side, nudging herself under Sokka’s arm and resting her head on his shoulder, hair brushing across his chin. He’d missed her a lot. He’d missed the way she made him feel; stronger, somehow, more confident.

In the dark, the few lanterns lit around them, it was easy to slip back to the Boiling Rock, to what he’d seen there.

Sokka had guessed that the Kyoshi Warriors had been captured by the time they left Ba Sing Se, but there wasn’t much they could do about it. He figured they had to be though, or else Azula wouldn’t have gotten her hands on their uniforms or known how to apply the warpaint. It wasn’t until Zuko had joined them though, and he had proven a frankly excessive knowledge about the Fire Nation that he decided to ask.

_I think my girlfriend’s been captured. Where do you think she’d be?_

Zuko had narrowed it down to the Boiling Rock if only because she was the leader of the group. If she hadn’t been, it could’ve been any number of prisons scattered across the Fire Nation islands. They’d spent the week after the invasion planning and training and then taking Appa to a settlement where Zuko believed they kept prisoners before moving them to the Rock. They stole uniforms and slipped onto the airship, made their way across the gondola and were inside the “impenetrable” prison within six hours.

Once inside, they found Suki in the yard, visited her room and formulated an escape plan. It was there that Sokka realised how little Zuko planned in advance. He just decided _We’ll break out of the Fire Nation’s strictest prison_ and had thought very little about how to do it until the time came.

That was probably why Zuko was found out and imprisoned.

But Sokka was a _planner_ , so he planned and worked and figured it all out.

In the end, they started a riot, stole the warden and made it across the gondola. Aang and Appa picked them up and they made it away only to spot an airship heading for the prison.

 _Someone’s heard Zuko was there,_ Aang said and Sokka knew it was true. He was relieved to be away before they found out who it was.

Now, on the nest of pillows and blankets, he pressed a kiss to Suki’s head and stared up at the moon as it peered down at them from the sky. He wondered if Yue was conscious in her new spiritual form; if she watched over him. He wondered if she would’ve liked Suki. He wondered what might’ve happened had he kept her from giving her life back to the moon spirit. If the moon he stared at now might’ve stayed red forever.

“What do we do now?” Toph asked into the silence of the courtyard. Perhaps she could tell that no one was asleep.

“We train,” Aang said, “and we defeat the Fire Lord, just like we planned. We do it together. We save the world together.”

“How long until the comet?” Suki asked.

“Three weeks,” Sokka replied.

“Oh. That’s not long.”

“It’s long enough,” Katara said.

“But what do we do when he’s defeated?” Toph asked. “Do we… you know, kill him?”

There was silence. They laid in the Fire Lord’s house discussing his murder. Sokka stretched his head backwards, but everyone else were just vaguely lit shapes in the dark. He settled again.

“I don’t think I can do it,” Aang said. “I don’t think that’s something I could ever do.”

“If we’re all there, Aang, you won’t have to,” Katara replied.

No one else spoke for the rest of the night.

Though Katara had said three weeks was long enough, it passed in a second. They sent messages to the Water Tribe men and planned the day out for hours at a time; they planned tactics to take down the Fire Lord together, with Toph throwing burning rocks to fight them back. They went to see a play about their exploits that made everyone uncomfortable but had surprisingly good effects.

Aang was killed in the second act.

Zuko was killed in the third.

Afterwards, they walked home and made fun of the play while commending the special effects. Suki had sneaked Sokka backstage so he could give the actor of himself better jokes. He was pretty sure he was going to marry Suki. Maybe it was too soon to be thinking that way, but he couldn’t imagine his soulmate _not_ sneaking him back stage to give the actor version of himself better jokes, so.

Then they trained some more, and worried some more, and as the day of the comet drew close, they climbed onto Appa’s saddle and started the journey towards the western coast of the Earth Kingdom, where the Fire Nation would attack from. The Water Tribe men and their assorted allies had spent the weeks previous evacuating the Earth Kingdom along the western coast, following the route the airships would take to lessen the loss of life as much as possible, but as they arrived the morning of the battle, Sokka didn’t know if it was enough.

The six of them facing the Fire Lord, fine, yes, great job Sokka – but what about those airships? They had decided they’d take them down as and when they could, but what about the damage they’d bring before that? What about the massive swaths of land that would be destroyed before the Fire Lord finally fell?

And what if Azula really was on one of them? Sokka doubted they’d be able to take her _and_ the Fire Lord _and_ her friends.

“You think we need to split up,” Suki said when he expressed this fear.

“I do,” he admitted. “But it’s difficult – Aang’s gonna need all the help he can get to take down the Fire Lord.”

“Be honest, Sokka,” Suki sighed, “do you think we’ll get close?”

“What?”

“To the Fire Lord. You and me. This is will be a fight of epic proportions. Master benders on the day of a _comet_ – imagine the size of the fire that will be produced. Do you think we’ll get close to him? Do you think we’ll _survive_ it?”

Sokka was silent for a moment. He had spent his childhood switching between jealousy and relief that he wasn’t a waterbender. Waterbenders were targeted, were in danger, were kinda freaky – but to have that level of power? He yearned for it sometimes, watching Katara doing even the most basic of moves. Even in the past year, watching his bending friends, he wanted to be like them, even though he was good at what he did. Even though his talents laid elsewhere.

He was intelligent, he was creative, he was a swordsman.

But there were some battles those skills didn’t suit. He had to admit that maybe the Fire Lord counted as one of those.

He met Suki’s eye. “The airships,” he said. “You and me.”

She nodded. “You and me.”

He pressed his hand against her cheek, gently swiping along her cheekbone. She was so beautiful. He was so lucky.

“Let’s tell the others,” he said.

They understood, they did. Katara cried a little, knowing they’d split up, and Sokka had to will himself not to do the same.

They split up at sunrise. Sokka hugged his sister first, pressing a kiss to her temple and making her swear to come back alive, then pulled Aang into an embrace too. Toph punched him in the arm and then shoved her face into his chest when he hugged her anyway. When he got to Zuko, he hesitated and then threw himself into a hug that Zuko clearly didn’t know how to respond to. He patted Zuko’s shoulder as he pulled away and looked back along the line of his friends.

“Look after each other,” he said.

“You too,” Aang replied.

They took Appa and started off for the airships, taking the trip silently until they came across the fleet.

“Holy shit,” Suki said, leaning across the saddle behind him. “That’s a big fleet.”

It must’ve been at least twenty airships, each monolithic in size. That would be troublesome to destroy. Sokka didn’t have a plan – he needed one, fast.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, glancing behind to Suki.

“Go around,” she said. “Don’t let them see us.”

Sokka tugged at the reins and Appa turned so they could approach the airships from the side. As they grew closer, their true size grew more obvious. He hadn’t gotten a great look at Azula’s airship before it went down, but it was clear that these were even larger. Each one had a platform underneath where a soldier stood, their plate masks up over their faces.

“The one at the front,” Suki said. “That has to be the Fire Lord’s.”

“What do we do?” Sokka asked.

Suki’s mouth twisted. “Let the others deal with him. Let’s focus on the fleet.”

Sokka nodded and flew in low, just in time to see the sky turn red. He gasped, head tilting back, and there it was – in the distance, a second, burning sun. The sky took on an amber hue, slowly changing to a vivid red as the comet drew in close.

Suddenly, a burst of flames shot down from the first airship – the Fire Lord set fire to the forest on the edge of the Earth Kingdom. It was more fire power than Sokka had ever seen at once; a pillar of seething, burning red. A moment later, the other airships followed suit; twenty violent storms of fire descending across the landscape.

“They’ll split up and burn the entire country to the ground,” Sokka said.

Suki placed her hand on his shoulder. “We’ll stop them before they get there.”

Sokka brought Appa in low to the airship on the end, and the two of them leapt from his back and onto the catwalk; Suki grabbing onto a pole and swinging a kick around into the soldier. He fell from the platform and vanished into the fire below.

They ran along the platform, Sokka drawing his sword to slash at the soldier at the other end; they shot a fireball back, barely missing Sokka and Suki as they dove to the ground. Sokka felt it singe his hair as it passed over. From his ducked position, he tackled the soldier, pinning them to the catwalk, but was quickly thrown to the side. It took all Sokka had to keep himself on the platform as Suki raced in, grabbing the fence on either side and kicking forward with her feet into the rising soldier, knocking him into the air.

She helped Sokka up and then they were climbing the ladder into the belly of the airship, a dark metal maze of corridors and pipes. They followed it around, clashing blades with whoever they found, mechanics and soldiers alike. As Sokka fought a soldier with a long, curved blade, Suki leapt and ran across the wall, knocking into an engineer who attempted to alert the crew. They fought hard and fast, sweeping their way up towards the bridge, where at last they paused outside the door and faced one another.

“Hey, after this, do you wanna get something to eat?”

Suki tilted her head to the side. “Are you thinking noodles or rice? I’ve got a craving for sushi.”

“You know, I haven’t seen sushi since last time I was on Kyoshi?”

“No?” Suki straightened and Sokka followed suit, rolling his shoulders. His Water Tribe armour sat comfortable on his shoulders; sometimes he wondered about a life in which he’d been born a few years earlier and would’ve worn this daily with the other men.

“Maybe Kyoshi should interact with the world again so the Earth Kingdom can start making it,” Sokka suggested. “But I could go for seafood.”

Suki tilted her head to the side in agreement and then kicked the door in, starting in ahead of Sokka. She took on the first soldier, ducking underneath his fire attack and punching him where it hurt, and Sokka brought his blade up to deflect the next soldier’s, fighting back to back with Suki as they made their way through the bridge’s staff. The fight ended with Sokka slashing his blade through the wrist of a soldier reaching for the alarm, his hand toppling to the floor as Suki appeared behind him to snap his neck.

Sokka barely spared a glance for the body as he jogged back to the door, locking it tight. He was not Aang, he was not raised to be a monk; sometimes blood had to be spilled to end a hundred years of suffering.

“Take the wheel,” he said, starting back over. Suki had just shifting the body away so she could comfortably stand at the wheel, and Sokka leaned over to stare out the front window. Fire still tore through the landscape, but now there was something happening on the ground, amongst massive pillars and columns of rock. “Look. They’re fighting the Fire Lord.”

Suki followed his gaze. “I can’t tell if they’re winning.” Massive flames roared up from the battle – Sokka couldn’t tell if they were the Fire Lord’s or Zuko’s – but the lack of rainbow colours in the fire didn’t sit well with him.

“It doesn’t matter right now,” he decided. “We do our part, they’ll do theirs.” He grabbed the speaker phone. “Take us down to the water, Suki.” The ship began to lower, and Sokka turned on the speaker, putting on a voice. “Attention, crew, this is your captain speaking. Everyone please report to the bomb bay immediately for hot cakes and sweet cream. We have a very special birthday to celebrate.” He switched off the speaker and met Suki’s raised eyebrows. “What? Everyone loves hot cakes and sweet cream.”

She laughed and he ducked in to kiss her on the cheek. “Alright. We’ll drop the crew out of the airship, then bring her back up to the edge of the line.” He pointed to make sure Suki knew where she was headed. “Then we’ll turn the steering wheel and lock it, so the ships will crash into each other.”

“Like dominoes.”

“Exactly.”

“You think Azula’s on one of these things?”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “If she is, hopefully she’ll crash and burn with everyone else.”

“And how do we get down, while we’re crashing and burning?”

Sokka pulled a face. “We’ll climb up to the top, and hopefully Appa will hear our screams of terror.”

Suki’s eyes glistened with worry. “I trust you,” she said.

“That’s very sweet of you,” Sokka replied and started searching for the bay door lever, “but it’s okay if you have some doubts. This is plan is not well thought-out.”

“No,” Suki said. “I trust you. We’ll get out of this okay. I know it.”

Sokka met Suki’s gaze across the console and smiled. Tui and La, he really _was_ going to marry her. “You think it’s been long enough for everyone to get to the bay?”

Suki grinned. “Bomb’s away.”

He pulled the lever and then rushed to the window, seeing the dots of people in the water. Sokka laughed, closing the bay doors as Suki piloted the airship back up.

“What do you think we’ll do after all this?” she asked.

“Other than sushi?”

“Other than sushi.”

“We’ll get the other Kyoshi Warriors out of prison,” Sokka said, “and meet up with the rest of our allies. We’ll put right the things that went wrong, and maybe we’ll stop off in the South Pole to make sure Gran Gran’s still alive.” Suki raised an eyebrow and Sokka shrugged. “What? She’s old. Frail. Heart could give out at any time.”

They laughed and for a moment, Sokka could see it. He could see their future mapped out; Suki fighting as a Kyoshi Warrior, protecting her home, protecting the world, and Sokka rebuilding the Southern Water Tribe, opening up communication with the North again and spending several years learning how to carve a betrothal necklace properly. Maybe he would even find a green stone rather than a blue one, to match the colours of her uniform.

Then there was a flash of light and it threw him back into reality; the battle between their friends and the Fire Lord was still going strong and violent; entire columns of rock had toppled and the ocean had been pulled all the way in, further than the tide should’ve allowed, crafting giant waves that crashed down again and again.

“Let’s get out of here,” Sokka said as Suki lined up the airship. She placed a hand on his arm and pressed forward, kissing him soundly.

“Let’s go.” She slammed the wheel to the left and the airship followed, the two of them immediately turning and running to the door, unlocking and throwing it open. They sprinted along the corridors, searching for a way out of the death trap – they weren’t even close to finding an exit when the ship crashed for the first time.

They were thrown to the floor, sliding along with the ship. Sokka groaned and struggled back to his feet, grasping Suki’s hand and pulling her along. There had to be a ladder, a way outside. They climbed higher through the ship, through the piercing sound of metal collapsing rang in their ears. The airship crashed into the next one, then the next; dominoes knocking into each other and beginning their descent down.

“Smoke,” Suki said and Sokka could smell it too. Something was on fire.

They picked up the pace, relieved when they finally found a ladder. Sokka pushed Suki ahead and climbed up behind, holding on tight when the airship seemed to turn on its side. Suki kept climbing, unlocking the trapdoor at the top and pushing out into the burning red sky. She hauled Sokka after her.

From here, everything was red. Just red. The red sky, the red airships, the red fire. It had stopped descending on the Earth Kingdom now; a long line of airships crashing into each other and falling from the sky – only one remained; the Fire Lord’s, but with no one on the catwalk it just floated above the battle, waiting for its master to return.

“Appa!” Suki yelled, but Sokka couldn’t see him.

“He’s scared of fire,” Sokka replied, shaking his head. “Come on.”

They scrambled across the top of the airship as it went down, falling and pushing back to their feet again and again. As the airships crashed and exploded, fires raged and debris fell across them, slicing at Suki’s skin and denting Sokka’s armour.

Red sky, red airships, red fire, red blood. Sokka was sick of the colour red.

The airship lurched suddenly and he yelped, slipping with the impact.

“Sokka!” Suki cried, searching for grip where there was none. They’d fall; they’d die. Sokka grabbed his sword and slammed it into the metal; it sliced through and dragged down with his weight, with the momentum. He kicked out and Suki caught at his leg, climbing up best she could to hold onto his hand.

He gripped tight.

Fires raged below them.

He wouldn’t let go.

“Sokka,” Suki gasped.

“I’ve got you,” he promised. “We’re making it out alive.”

ix

The Fire Lord was taller than he expected.

Why was that Aang’s first thought?

He had long, sleek hair and an impossibly ripped physique – but Aang’s first thought as he shot across the sky at the sight of them, landing on a column of rock opposite them was that he was much taller than he’d expected.

Then he thought – _What the hell happened to his chest?_

It was littered with ugly red wounds, scarring over like a scattering of shrapnel. _The assassination attempt,_ Aang thought, eyes roving across the mess. It wasn’t fully healed yet, either, though it must’ve been at least a month, maybe longer. If the Fire Nation had Water Tribe healers like Katara, those marks would be little more than faint discolourings of skin by now.

“Avatar,” the Fire Lord greeted. “I thought this fight would be for just the two of us?”

He gestured vaguely with a hand to Katara, Toph and Zuko, standing around him. Aang tilted his chin up.

“What?” Aang called. “Too afraid to take all of us on at once?”

“Oh, no,” the Fire Lord responded. He looked like an Ozai, Aang guessed. “I just thought you’d have more honour than this.”

“The Fire Nation is the only place that believes denying help as honourable,” Aang replied. “Your war isn’t _honourable._ What you wish to do to the Earth Kingdom isn’t _honourable._ ”

“You think you can say that when you stand with a traitorous wretch like him?” the Fire Lord yelled. It was so easy to get under his skin, Aang decided as Ozai gestured towards Zuko.

“Zuko is more honourable than you,” Katara replied, “and when you’re gone, he’ll bring that honour back to the Fire Nation.”

The Fire Lord laughed. It was a sickening sound. He stopped suddenly, his face twisted into a snarl. “He can certainly try, if he lives that long,” the Fire Lord said, before lurching suddenly into the battle.

The group scattered immediately, pairing off and evading Ozai’s first attack. Aang grabbed Katara and Toph grabbed Zuko, the four of them leaping away to other columns. Ozai didn’t hesitate before twisting after Zuko.

Aang jumped after him, leaving Katara to summon the sea that washed across the shore in the distance – there was still fire hurtling down from the sky, several airships soaring overhead. Aang ducked around the bursts of fire Zuko sent towards his father, sweeping around in a wide arc to blow air at him from the side; Ozai tumbled and regained himself, using fire to power him upwards to deliver cruel blows towards them both.

The fire was hotter than Aang had ever felt it. When the comet had arrived, the sky turning red, Aang had asked, _What does it feel like?_

Zuko’s eyes were shut as he breathed deep; Aang could almost see the dragon’s radiant flames surrounding him. _It feels incredible,_ Zuko had replied. _It feels endless._

Now, the bursts of fire were massive, monolithic – it was clear from the offset how powerful Ozai was in this fight, how easily he could’ve overwhelmed Aang from the beginning. Zuko’s being here evened the score, while Toph and Katara pushed them over the edge.

Toph jumped onto another pillar of rock, kicking several massive discs towards the Fire Lord, one after the other. Ozai blocked two and was hit by the third, sent spiralling downwards. He caught himself and shot back up, fireballs flinging towards her, barely batted away by Aang’s air. Toph was still in position – she couldn’t see him in the air; she had no idea where he was until he landed.

They fought on; now the forest fires were mostly doused by the incoming ocean that flooded between the columns, Katara with her hands raised high. She arced her arms in wide circles and waves rose from the waters, crashing across the columns, across the Fire Lord, and turning to ice as they hit him, beating him down and away.

Zuko’s rainbow-lit fire passed across the waters, followed by Aang’s tornado and Toph’s crumbling pillars, each one falling towards their target, one after the next. It was an onslaught, violent and unstoppable; each one of them attacking with all their might.

Still the Fire Lord rose.

Still they fought back.

He was a violent fury, his fire monolithic and scalding; he was unafraid and each hit from him sent them sprawling; Toph flung far into the distance, Katara into the depths of her ocean. The Fire Lord had no tolerance for any of them; held nothing back and raged onwards into battle, willing to light the whole country on fire to end it.

To kill his son.

Aang saw it early on, and thought it even more so now, leaping away and picking up his glider from a distant column. He’d left it out of the way, knowing it’d be easy kindling, but the amount of times he’d swung around to catch his friends before they fell impossible heights made him feel uncomfortable without it.

He span it open and flew back towards the fight where the Fire Lord was unleashing a relentless barrage of fire on Zuko. It was like the Fire Lord didn’t even care that Aang was supposedly the _Avatar_. He only cared about killing Zuko; he only cared about burning him from the face of the planet.

Aang shot up high and then flipped his glider shut, pressing his feet together and hurtling downwards towards the Fire Lord. He landed square on his back, sending him rocketing towards the water below; Aang pushed off and leapt up to where Zuko was breathing heavy, sweating and hot to touch.

“He wants to kill you!” Aang cried.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Zuko replied.

They jumped back in.

Toph had formed a suit of armour of rock alone, her entire body encased in it, but it slowly burnt away under Ozai’s oppressive heat. As the rock crumbled, water whipped through the air, engaging him in a new fight; one with a limitless ocean beneath their feet, rising to great heights to sweep him away and speed through the air, a thousand icy daggers that he melted with the wave of his hand.

“You are a child!” he yelled, swooping in close. His fist was coated in fire as he punched towards Katara. She moved suddenly, her fist rising to knock his away, the fire shooting off in another direction, as her other hand shot forward, a stream of water following. The Fire Lord was sent flying through the air, back cracking against a half-crumbled pillar.

“I’m a master waterbender!” Katara replied, raising her arms to direct two tentacles of water to grab his body and start pulling him down, towards the ocean.

“That was a firebending move,” Zuko commented, appreciation in his voice, before leaping to another pillar, closer to where Toph was back on her feet and bringing the column of rock down on Ozai.

Aang looked up, briefly, at the sound of a distant explosion. The airships were careening across the sky, crashing into each other. Fires raged and smoke plumes rose from the wreckage. He couldn’t see Sokka or Suki, couldn’t see Appa flying them safely back in their direction. Aang worried his lower lip for a moment before an echoing yell caught his attention; massive arcs of fire shooting away from the water, as Ozai broke free and jetted suddenly upwards, back towards Katara.

This time, it was Zuko who intervened first; his fire lighting the sky and sending Ozai retreating to a distant pillar. They each occupied a different one now; four on one, with the Fire Lord breathing heavy and erratic.

It occurred to Aang that they could actually win this.

The Fire Lord yelled, “Avatar! Show your true colours already! Azula told me _all about_ your powers and yet I have seen nothing but air from you! Are you not the harbinger of peace? Are you not the master of all four elements! Prove it!”

Aang lowered into his stance, locking his jaw.

For a moment, nothing happened, and then he heard Ozai say, “Fine,” and rocket himself back into the air.

And on it went. Aang had never fought a battle like this before. He had never felt as in danger for his life as he did when facing the Fire Lord – he believed, wholeheartedly, that he would’ve struggled even during the eclipse. Ozai was relentless, he could take just about anything and still rise back to his feet; Toph’s earth, Katara’s water, Zuko’s fire and Aang’s air was barely a match from him, even as they surprised him again and again with how they moved.

Their training _had_ paid off. The Fire Lord was ceaselessly unable to immediately counter their attacks – Zuko who raised walls of fire like an earthbender, Toph whose rocks slipped through the air like water. Katara’s airbending-inspired hurricanes and Aang’s fire-like bursts of air were practically indefensible, and yet the Fire Lord kept taking the hits and getting up again. He kept fighting back just as unbearably hot, his fire too massive and violent to easily defend from.

On an average day, Aang was okay no longer being the Avatar. But right now, he longed for those powers again.

“Enough!” the Fire Lord yelled eventually, his airship looming overhead, the rest of the fleeting crashing and burning in the distance. “Zuko! You will stop this at once!” He stood only a small distance away from Zuko, the two of them on neighbouring pillars as they both breathed heavy. Aang saw the way Zuko shrunk back and then tried to force himself forward again. “You are better than this,” the Fire Lord continued. “You are the Fire Prince; you are destined for far greater things than to fight with this failed Avatar. What Avatar does not know all four elements? What Avatar lets children fight in his wars? Zuko,” he lowered his voice, yet it was still firm like steel, “come home. Come back to the palace; join me and _rule_ by my side! I have risen to the position of Phoenix King, my son. Ascend to Fire Lord, take the title, take the _nation_. Restore your honour, your country’s honour.”

The Fire Lord – The Phoenix King – Ozai held out a hand.

An explosion sounded from the fleet in the distance and Zuko swayed a little, like he was considering Ozai’s words.

“Don’t do it!” Aang yelled.

“He’s lying!” Toph shouted.

“Zuko, please!” Katara called.

“Join me,” Ozai said. “Please, my son. Come home. Mould the Fire Nation in _your_ image.”

Zuko's hands twitched at his sides. "You banished me for talking out of turn."

"To teach you respect."

"You duelled a _child._ You _branded_ my face."

"So you would learn, Prince Zuko."

"It was cruel. _You_ were cruel."

"Things will be different when you are Fire Lord," Ozai replied. "When you stand tall and demand respect instead of cowering like a child. Come home, Zuko."

Zuko's fingers curled into a fist. He swayed, just a little, and then started forward, moving fast and yelling “NO!” as fire rocketed through the air towards his father, who caught each lash of heat and sent it funnelling back to his son. It arched wide and high, lurching for the final airship and slashing through the metal, melting it on impact. Immediately, the airship began to crumple towards the ground.

“You insolent, pitiful—” He was cut off by Toph, sweeping her leg out and slashing his pillar in two.

“Zuko isn’t yours!” she yelled as Ozai fell, before bursting upwards in a fit of fire and rage. “No one owns him anymore!”

Ozai growled, flipping back onto a distant pillar. “Is that right, pissant? You know my son better than me? We’ll see about that!”

The air crackled suddenly, like it was being dragged away and electrically charged. Static in the atmosphere around him as Zuko breathed, “No,” and started forward, leaping between columns, though so few were left standing. Aang watched as Ozai drew his hands in wide circles, collecting energy, collecting static, his fingers twitching with raw energy.

_Lightning._

He yelled and thrust his hand forward. Aang acted on instinct, spinning and blasting air towards Zuko, rocketing him faster as the lightning zapped towards Toph. In an instant, Zuko was in the way; drawing the lightning into himself. He pulled it in, then landed hard atop a pillar, his form breaking on impact and the lightning not exiting his body.

_“ZUKO!”_

They yelled it at once, all three of them, immediately leaping forward to get to him before the Fire Lord, who’d laughed maniacally when his son couldn’t redirect the lightning back at him.

The Fire Lord jumped, burning feet and hands, and then landed, a foot either side of his son, who twitched and jerked, curled on his side with lightning careening around his body.

Aang knew a little of how that felt.

“I should’ve killed you last time,” Ozai said.

The Fire Lord raised his hand, red hot burning fire engulfing him.

“No!” Aang yelled, his glider out as he tried to reach him.

Zuko hitched in a breath.

The Fire Lord shifted, punching down towards his son.

This was it. This was the end.

And then he froze. He shook. His fire died.

Aang landed on the same pillar and stared up with wide eyes as the Fire Lord stood, rigid and angular, unable to move. Aang looked past him, to Katara, standing atop a new, icy column, her hands thrust forward and her face like a storm.

“Toph!” Aang called. “Take Zuko.”

Toph slammed her foot down on her own pillar, hands stretched forward, and the column they stood on cracked; a slab lifting away from the rest of the rock, from the Fire Lord, and floating towards her. Electricity still sparked from Zuko. Aang couldn’t imagine touching him and not getting shocked. So he stood beside the Fire Lord, as Katara lowered her hands, and Ozai was forced to his knees, head tipped backwards, eyes angry and shooting from side to side.

“Master fucking waterbender,” Katara reminded him, sliding her foot forward and directing a path of thick ice from her pillar to Aang’s. She walked forward slowly, hands raised.

“You need to heal Zuko,” Aang said.

“I have to hold him,” she replied, her voice stiff with effort. “He’s stronger than the rest.”

Aang looked back to Zuko, on the floor by Toph’s feet. She looked pained, unable to help.

“If that lightning stays in him for much longer, he’ll die,” Aang said. Zuko had told him all about lightning and redirection when he’d asked; about how his uncle had taught him to flow it through his body like a waterbender, purposefully missing the heart.

“What do you want me to do, Aang?”

Aang looked down at the Fire Lord, unable to move, twitching like his son, his entire body owned by someone else. It was unnatural. It was wrong.

 _But,_ Aang thought, _this is war._ And sometimes, war was messy, and war was irredeemably wrong.

He looked to Katara, stony faced. “Do what you have to,” he said.

Her eyes widened with understanding, and then she nodded.

Once, Aang had been in love with her. It wasn’t so long ago, in fact. But then he’d given her up to access the Avatar State; given up personal desire for the world at large, and when he’d come out of his coma, what was left was an appreciation, a crush at best, Aang unable to feel what he had given up. Perhaps, with age, he’d get back there – he’d feel love and desire, when he was older and further away from his short time as the Avatar.

But he doubted it’d be with Katara, who killed willingly, without hesitation. He knew she could feel remorse for it, but he also knew that what she considered necessary, he thought was something ugly, something soul-splitting.

 _Zuko needs Katara,_ he told himself. _This is the quickest way to saving his life._

He stepped back. He looked away. He heard the wheeze of breath, a choke, then a body slumping.

“Go help Zuko,” Aang said, as he stared off at the distant downed airships. Katara swept past him, a wave of ice appearing for her to skate along. Aang sucked in a breath and let it out.

The Fire Lord’s airship was a flaming wreck, and his corpse sat right behind Aang’s feet on the cracked pillar. He watched in silence as Katara drew healing water to Zuko, jumped back at the electric shock and then ploughed on in saving him. Toph settled on the column and rested Zuko’s head in her lap.

Aang stared upwards as the comet vanished over the horizon, the sky turning blue once more. They’d defeated the Fire Lord. They’d saved the Earth Kingdom. They’d won the war.

It was a careful journey back towards the coastline where they hoped to meet with Sokka and Suki. They put out the forest fires as they went along and Katara receded the ocean back out to the shore. They left Ozai’s body where it fell. They would send someone else to collect it. None of them felt right about dragging it all the way home.

Zuko, with an angry red scar in the centre of his chest, limped along, none of them tall enough to really be much help, but Aang and Toph under each of his arms anyway.

“Hey, our scars match,” Aang mentioned halfway. “Yours is in the same spot on your front as mine is on my back.”

Zuko tried for a smile and failed. “Twins,” he said. It was a little later he added, “How did she do that?” He nodded towards Katara, who was twisting her body in some kind of dance as she walked, bringing the tide in to smother the flames, then out again. “Bloodbending in the day time.”

“Didn’t you hear?” Toph asked. “She’s a master fucking waterbender.”

That time, Zuko did smile, and up ahead, Katara flipped her hair over her shoulder as she looked back, laughing.

At the shoreline, they found Appa and Momo, Sokka and Suki firmly installed on their saddle.

“Didn’t think to offer us a lift?” Katara called.

They both looked over, relief splashed across their faces. “We’re in—uh—not great shape,” Suki replied. “We’d come down but—”

“I’ve got a broken leg,” Sokka complained, flopping against the edge of the saddle.

“How do you know?” Toph asked. They slowed to a stop beside Appa, who grumbled happily at the sight of them. Momo leaped down and nuzzled Aang’s cheek.

“It’s at the wrong angle,” Sokka replied. “I’ve already drank that weird tonic we found in that Fire Nation market? So, now it just feels real numb and also like it’s _maybe_ gonna turn into a flipper.”

“Like a penguin?”

“ _Exactly_ like a penguin.”

Toph earthbended them up to Appa’s height so they could ease Zuko into the saddle.

“Tui and La,” Sokka said. “What happened to him?”

“Lightning,” Katara replied, climbing up Appa’s tail. Then she yelped. “Suki! What happened to _you_?”

Aang looked over and saw for the first time how utterly drenched she was with blood. He hadn’t even questioned the colour seeing as she was already wearing red. Suki shrugged. She’d also clearly drank some of that tonic, and she was also clearly staining Appa’s saddle.

“We were still on the airships when they went down,” she said.

“She _died,_ ” Sokka said.

“I did _not._ I just didn’t breathe for a little bit and probably lost a lot of blood.”

“Appa, the big wimp, wouldn’t come near the fire,” Sokka added, like this was a humorous story and not nightmare fuel for Aang. They settled Zuko into the saddle as Sokka continued, “So I’ve brought Suki back to life, my leg is at the wrong angle—” It really, very much was “—and we’ve gotta somehow make it back to shore before Appa will come _anywhere near us._ ” He frowned suddenly. “Where’s the Fire Lord?”

“Dead,” Aang said. Silence washed over them and he stood, climbing over the saddler to tug on Appa’s reins. “Yip yip,” he said.

Appa rose up into the morning sky, somehow a brilliant blue that looked entirely untouched by the comet, by the bloodshed and the battle. Massive black plumes of smoke covered one half of the sky, and Aang directed Appa away, not wanting to see any part of it anymore.

“So, we won?” Sokka asked.

Aang glanced back. Katara was already working away on Suki’s wounds, despite how drained and empty she seemed herself, and Sokka was resting back, his leg bloody and crooked. If Aang looked long enough, he was sure he would see bone. Opposite, Toph and Zuko were slumped against each other, the lightning wound on Zuko’s chest and Toph already seemingly falling asleep, like she’d already used up all her day’s efforts. She was so hollowed from the fight, she wasn’t even holding onto the saddle, despite her blindness.

Aang turned, looking forward towards the open, cloudless sky.

“If this is what you call winning,” he replied.

x

_This_ was what you called winning.

Under a red sky, the Fire Sage announced, “By decree of Phoenix King Ozai, I now crown you Fire Lord.” The fire crown was lowered into Azula’s hair. “All Hail the Fire Lord!”

The subjects bowed, their banners lowering; military, sage and noble alike. Azula rose to her feet, eyes roving across her subjects. She’d thought Zuko would’ve arrived by now to challenge her right to the throne, but it seemed he was too caught up with father.

She grinned, a feral queen.

“All Hail the Fire Lord! All Hail the Fire Lord!”

Azula tipped her head back and roared, blue flames bursting forth. The crowd cheered for her, their new mighty Fire Lord.

Later, as she reclined onto her throne, blue fire in the pits separating her and her subjects, she watched Mai and Ty Lee enter her chambers. They bowed, as was customary, and Azula grinned her dangerous smile at them both.

“I’m glad you’re here on my Ascension Day,” she said.

“We’re glad to be here!” Ty Lee replied with a smile. “You look so wonderful and powerful, Azula.”

“I know.” Azula checked her claw-like nails. “It is important, with my new position, that I be surrounded by trusted advisors, so I will ask you this once. Do you both swear your fealty to me and only me?”

“Of course, Fire Lord Azula,” Ty Le said with a bow.

Mai seemed to pause, but she still said, “Yes, Fire Lord Azula.”

Azula cut her gaze across them both. She did not believe them, not really, but only a fool _would_ believe the people around them to be loyal. No, Ty Lee had been acting off since the day Azula fought her brother at the Western Air Temple, and Mai had hidden Zuko’s identity as The Blue Spirit from her. They both had cause to defy her, to even perhaps choose Zuko, should he barge into her palace now and demand the throne.

But she chose to keep them close, at an arm’s length, where they could be reached and controlled with ease.

“Good,” she said. “Thank you. You may both continue to live in your chambers in the palace.”

The doors across the hall opened, then, and an advisor rushed in. He apologised and fell to his knees before her. Azula found herself amused by Mai’s disgusted glance at him.

“What is it?” Azula asked.

“Your Majesty,” the advisor said – she had yet to learn his name, “I have received word about the damage done during the comet this morning.”

“The _damage?_ ”

“Yes. Firstly, your excellency, Ba Sing Se was reconquered.”

“What?”

He nodded, trembling at her sharp tone. “A group of benders calling themselves The Order of The White Lotus retook the city. They were from all three nations, Your Majesty. Amongst them was even… even…”

“Spit it out,” she hissed.

“General Iroh, Your Majesty.”

Azula sat back. She’d wondered where he’d run off to since his escape on the day of the eclipse. She’d expected to see him when they ambushed Zuzu and his little friends, but he hadn’t been there. He’d spent all this time preparing to reconquer the city he’d failed to take himself?

Her upper lip curled into a snarl. “Treasonous wretch,” she muttered. “Anything else?”

“Yes, yes, your excellency. It is—it is not good news.”

She huffed. “If you do not learn to relay your announcements faster I will feed you to the komodo rhinos in the stable.”

The advisor spluttered. “The Avatar,” he said. The Fire Nation had been utterly appalled to discover that Zuko’s assassination of the Avatar had actually failed; that he had _lied_ to his dear sister when he checked the boy’s breathing. “It has come to my attention that he took down the fleet of airships heading for the Earth Kingdom. The Phoenix King… your father—he was killed by the Avatar.”

Azula pressed her lips together. “You may leave.”

The advisor scuttled out and Azula swallowed, eyes moving slowly from the fire to her friends, who watched her with cautious gazes.

“You too,” she added. “I wish to be alone.”

“Of course, Azula,” Ty Lee said quietly. They both bowed and started for the door.

Mai hesitated. “If you need us…”

“Yes, thank you, Mai.”

The door shutting echoed around the throne room. Azula was alone on her throne with just the curling blue flames to keep her company. She considered the news: she was an orphan, her father was dead, she alone controlled the Fire Nation now. Any attempt on the throne by Zuko would cause a civil war, and though the Avatar was still alive, she was surrounded by both Fire Nation guards and the Dai Li in the centre of her capital. There was a reason they’d planned to use the eclipse to attack.

A smile inched onto her lips. Her father was dead. It tugged upwards. Her father was dead. A laugh bubbled up. _Her father was dead!_

It echoed, a growing cackle that pierced sharply out of her chest.

Fire Lord Azula settled on her throne, grinning maniacally.

 _Phoenix King,_ what an egotistical move by her father. She would be better, stronger, smarter. She would rule this nation _and_ this world, and she would play by the rules she invented.

Her only real competitor was dead, after all, and this was her game now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hooooo boy. things i really liked about this chapter: ty lee???? is?? an aIRBENDER??????? and also katara bloodbending IN THE DAY TIME. that girl is a master waterbender she can do whatever she likes. also, zuko taking the lightning for toph, and sokka's entire internal monologue being *war plans* *training* *suki's so pretty* *swords* *im gonna marry suki* *violence* *murder* *i love suki so much*
> 
> just the epilogue to go now! it's only about 1k long, but it's gonna round out our main plot point and lead us into the fics i've got prepared and want to write for the next part of the series! i am, of course, terrified about writing a fire nation civil war, and would very much like to gloss over it entirely lmao, but i have written myself into a corner and now i must write myself out of it
> 
> pretty please talk to me in the comments!!!! i really want to know what you guys are feeling, especially after i wrote TWENTY THOUSAND WORDS for ONE CHAPTER
> 
> thank you!!!!!! have a good day and stay safe!!!


	5. epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end!!! of the fic!!! make sure you look out for more fics in this verse - you can subscribe to the 'destiny is a funny thing' series and then you'll get emails when i add more fics! i've got a whole bunch of ideas i want to follow up on, ESPECIALLY regarding ty lee, the unfortunate civil war i've forced myself to write, what iroh got up to since breaking out of prison and a bunch of avatar-related shenanigans. (three fics are already sitting the drafts ready to go whenever lmao)
> 
> thanks so much for reading, i super hope you enjoyed this series, please talk to me in the comments when you've finished!!!
> 
> (if anyone's ever stopped to wonder where the title from, it might just come from aang in the legend of korra: "when we hit our lowest point, we are open to the greatest change" - i feel like many characters are gonna hit their lowest points in this series)

_Aang,_ a voice said in the darkness. Familiar, warm, low. _Open your eyes._

A crack of light in the dark, growing wider, brighter. Then, there:

_Avatar Roku?_

_Hello, Aang._

They stood in a dense forest, wet with heat, their bodies real and substantial, rather than transparent and ethereal. Not the spirit world, Aang knew. A dream, his surroundings supplied.

_I can’t believe you’re here._

Roku’s smile was funny. Unreal.

_I’m not. But there is somewhere you need to go._

_Avatar Roku, what does this mean?_

_No Avatar has died and come back. No Avatar has returned to the world free of their destiny. Travel deep into the forest, Aang. There is someone you need to meet._

_Who? Avatar Roku? Avatar Roku!_

The light gave way to the darkness. Aang called his name again, but there was no response. Avatar Roku was gone. The forest was gone. The light was gone.

Aang bolted upright, suddenly awake. He was warm, still, though not in the humid way of his dream. This heat came from Zuko, curled up nearby, asleep like all of Aang’s friends. They weren’t even a day out from the comet, but in the distance, Aang could see the sun rising on a new dawn, almost a full twenty-four hours since the battle.

They had headed for the Fire Nation immediately after Ozai’s death, but flaming boulders had kept them back, instead choosing to head low to a town where a party was in full swing. They were celebrating the Ascension of the new Fire Lord: Azula. They were too late for Zuko to challenge her for the throne without igniting a civil war.

Now, on a small island where they had rendezvoused with the Water Tribe men; the Fire Naval ship floating off shore, Aang carefully pried himself away from Zuko’s side. Toph shifted but settled once more.

He crept over Sokka and Suki, bundled under blankets that hid the worst of their damage, and slipped away from Katara, still curled up in the warmth that Zuko radiated in his sleep. He woke Appa quietly, shushing his low rumbling groan, and whispered the command words that had them lifting into the sky.

He started east, back towards the Earth Kingdom, and glanced back, hoping the others would sleep through the rest of the night. Zuko especially, who was weak and angry; fluctuating between deep melancholy and loud rage. His father was dead and his sister took the throne; there was no easy way to move forward.

Despite what they had thought, the war was not over, after all.

Aang flew on, silent and wired, his dream replaying around his mind. It was an hour or so later that Zuko awoke, rising with the sun as he was prone to do. His questions woke Katara, who woke Toph, and so on, until all six of them were looking towards the horizon, Aang’s dream a whisper in their minds.

_You saw Roku – does that mean you’re still the Avatar after all?_

_No, it means he was saying goodbye._

They flew on. They ate breakfast in the sky, and over the rolling plains of saved, green land, they ate lunch. Soon enough, they were flying over a forest, stretched as far as the eye could see. In the centre sat a monolithic tree, the roots of which connected the entire forest together.

“What is this place?” Suki asked.

“The swamp,” Aang replied.

He directed Appa to the base of the giant banyan-grove tree’s trunk, where he landed with a relieved grumble. Huu, sitting cross-legged on one root, peered up at them, his grey hair in disarray.

“I thought I heard you comin’,” he said as Aang slipped down from Appa’s head.

“Where are they?” Aang asked in return.

“Jus’ down in the village. Y’all comin’?”

Aang gestured for them to follow, and they climbed down. Sokka’s leg was still very much broken, though properly aligned now, and Huu took one look at him before offering him a stick to help him walk. Suki limped alongside him, her torso and legs covered in crosshatched marks, shrapnel-wounds and slicing from their crash. Sokka’s armour had saved him the same fate.

They followed along, Huu whistling a tune as they climbed down the roots and into the cover of the trees, Appa left behind to rest.

It wasn’t far, and soon enough they were in the midst of one of the Foggy Swamp villages, Tho and Due waving with recognition. Aang barely spared them a glance, though Sokka and Katara called back. He knew what he was looking for.

They stopped in the path between a series of huts and Huu eyed him cautiously.

“The tree keeps us all connected,” he said. “So you here for what I think you’re here for?”

Aang swallowed and looked ahead to a hut built with sticks and mud. The roof and doorway were draped with leaves sewn together. He knew where he had to go.

“Yes,” Aang replied, and started forward.

He pushed aside the curtain doorway, shedding light into the dim interior of the hut. It was sparse; a few belongings, a lantern and a bed, where a woman laid. She smiled at him when he entered, like she knew he was coming. _The tree keeps us all connected._

“Come see,” she said.

Aang stepped inside and moved to her bedside, crouching beside her to peer at the bundle in her arms. The first of the Foggy Swamp Tribe; an unprecedented event spawning from another totally unprecedented event.

“Her name’s Yue,” the woman said. Yue was small, with a tuft of dark hair, her eyes closed. Aang looked up to the doorway, where his friends blocked the light, watching with wide eyes. Sokka looked ready to fall over.

As Aang’s gaze drifted back to the baby, he placed a gentle hand on her hair, and her eyes blinked open, a deep, rich brown. _There is someone you need to meet,_ Roku had whispered into his dream. Aang agreed wholeheartedly; this was someone he needed to meet.

“Yue,” he said, smiling. “That’s a beautiful name.”

Aang leaned forward, brushing a kiss against her forehead. He felt a new destiny falling into place; one for who he was now, one made for who she was going to be. This wasn’t the path the fates intended, though it was the one that came to be.

The baby locked onto his gaze, like somehow she knew, though she was only a few months old. There was a lot of wisdom already waiting inside her, ready to help her grow.

Aang smiled.

A new destiny.

He said, “Welcome to the world, Avatar Yue.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys: there's no more avatar? or is there? is it katara? or korra? or someone else from the south pole? are they gonna go to the south pole to find out??????  
> me: .............. heh.... swamp baby avatar................ named yue

**Author's Note:**

> how are we feeling are we feeling good are we feeling bad are we thinking 'wow tempestaurora you should've written for atla like 5 years ago when you were last excessively into it' because that's what i've been thinking recently
> 
> thank you for reading, pretty please drop me a comment and tell me things. at the point of posting the first chapter i have only the second half of the last chapter and the epilogue to go, so updates will be pretty frequent! ok, thank u again, please talk to me in the comments goodbye


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